The Tonic of Wildness
by catharticone
Summary: Much in need of a break after his final year of medical school, Edward agrees to accompany Carlisle on a backpacking trip through the Olympic National Forest. A chance encounter with an accident victim will affect Edward in ways he never imagined. AU/AH story.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: **_This story was inspired by a prompt provided by Blue Kai. I am grateful to her for her support and feedback as her idea bloomed into a full tale. Please be aware that this is an AU story.

The _Twilight_ universe is the property of Stephenie Meyer, and no infringement is intended.

* * *

For many individuals, monumental events bring only joy. The milestones in my life, however, had been tinged with poignancy. I had no parents or siblings to share in my successes. For the most part, I had celebrated my accomplishments alone.

I had tried not to dwell upon my losses. Indeed, because of them I had pushed myself forward, trying to gain something new. Nothing could ever fill the void left by my parents' passing, but my achievements brought me some measure of happiness. Still, as I took the final steps toward the Dean I found could muster only a tremulous smile in response to his grin.

He clasped my hand, his grasp firm, as he said heartily, "Congratulations, Dr. Masen."

I didn't realize how damp my palm was until he released his grip. I murmured an acknowledgement then continued walking toward the row of seats where my fellow graduates sat. My gaze skimmed their faces, noting the elated expressions. For just a moment I allowed my eyes to move to the rows of seats above us where family and friends gathered to share in the momentous occasion. As I searched for the familiar face,

a swath of coppery hair, elegantly draped across slender shoulders, caught my gaze. I drew a sharp breath and blinked.

My vision blurred, and my pulse thrummed. I blinked again, my eyes clearing enough to see the woman's features as she turned her head slightly. I did not recognize her face; there was no reason I should. But for a few seconds I had imagined that she was my mother.

My steps had slowed, and it was with considerable effort that I continued my short journey toward the seating area. When I finally sat down, it was with some relief. I exhaled slowly and ran a hand through my hair. _Get a grip, Masen,_ I reprimanded myself silently. What the hell was wrong with me? Wryly, I wondered if psychiatry would be an appropriate field for me.

The names of my classmates were distant echoes in my ears as the ceremony continued. It wasn't until the thunderous clapping and whooping cheers began that I managed to rouse myself fully. I moved my hands together automatically and rose when the other graduates did.

Several of my classmates hugged me or clapped me on the back Jubilant laughter mixed with exaggerated sighs of relief as voices rose excitedly. Now the celebrations would begin. We exited the auditorium into a courtyard where the audience members were already waiting. Bright banners proclaiming congratulations to the University of Washington Medical School Class of 2005 hung from tables, and purple and gold balloons bobbed about cheerfully.

I was among the last of the graduates to enter the courtyard. There would be no embraces from family members for me. I hung back from the other celebrants, understanding that their revelry could not include me.

While I was on friendly terms with a number of my classmates, I did not feel particularly close to any of them. I had kept my distance from others emotionally; I was aware of this fact and knew that it had left me somewhat isolated. It had also given me the time to focus almost exclusively upon my studies. My undergraduate and graduate grades were exceptional, and I knew I was a favorite among the med school faculty. There would be time to form friendships later, once I was established in my career. Still, I felt a pang as I watched the little groups of parents, siblings, and spouses who exchanged embraces, caresses, and words of praise with the other graduates. My throat felt tight, and I swallowed hard. For a few seconds, the crowd began to blur again.

"Edward?" The masculine voice was soft, melodious, and kind. A hand closed gently over my shoulder. "Or should I saw Dr. Masen?" There was a light chuckle, then the grip tightened fractionally.

I blinked against the stinging in my eyes, focusing on the face before me. "Carlisle," I rasped, embarrassed by the hoarseness of my voice.

"Congratulations, Edward," he said, clasping my hand for a hearty shake. His tone had become serious, however, and his expression reflected concern. "Are you all right?" he asked.

I swallowed again. "Yes, fine."

His eyes moved slowly over my face, and I recognized the intensity of his gaze. I had seen it many times as he met new patients. He was an exceptional diagnostician, often sought out by senior colleagues despite his status as an attending. He was recognized by his peers as one of the finest physicians on staff. I felt fortunate to know him on both professional and personal levels. I had learned a great deal from Carlisle and hoped to learn a great deal more.

"Let's sit for a few minutes," he suggested, nodding toward a nearby bench.

I knew he continued to watch me with a professional eye as we walked to the bench. Once I was seated, he excused himself then returned a few moments later with a cup. I took it with a grateful smile and sipped the cool, slightly sweet lemonade.

"Better?" he asked simply.

"Yes," I replied.

"It can be a bit overwhelming, can't it?" he commented. "It's the culmination of years of effort and study, but in many ways it's just the beginning." A sympathetic smile twitched at his lips. "You looked a little unsteady after you shook the Dean's hand."

Feeling abashed, I took another sip of lemonade, focusing my gaze on the cup in my hand. "Did I?"

"Actually, I was worried for a few seconds that you might faint." His expression sobered again. "You were terribly pale. You still haven't gotten all of your color back." His words held no judgment, no criticism, only concern and empathy.

It was not in my nature to reveal my emotions to others; I had suppressed that tendency years ago. However, I found it difficult to prevaricate in the face of Carlisle's compassion. His innate kindness had been a comfort to me in those dark hours seven years ago when, within a matter of minutes, I had become an orphan.

Carlisle was a first-year resident assisting the trauma team when my parents were rushed to the hospital after the accident. While he had not delivered the devastating news to me himself, he had taken the time to sit with me for over an hour as I processed the depth of my loss. His presence had given me comfort and strength.

He had also inspired me to pursue a career in medicine. In him, I had sensed a genuine desire to help others. His work made a true contribution to the world. After the loss of my parents, I was much in need of such a purpose. Within a few months I had decided that I would undertake pre-med studies.

I was seventeen and had just begun my senior year of high school when my parents died. I had always been a strong student and a responsible teenager, and with the help of an associate from my father's law firm, I was granted status as an emancipated minor. Initially, I had found some small comfort in remaining in my own home, but soon I realized that the memories were overwhelming. Searching for a reason to get away, I threw myself into my studies, graduating at the end of the semester. Immediately I began taking college courses. With continuous study during summer and interim sessions, I completed my undergraduate degree in less than three years.

I eschewed social activities but realized that experience in a medical setting would enhance my med school applications. I began volunteering at a free clinic, and that was where I encountered Carlisle again. Despite the hundreds of patients and family members he had dealt with during the two years since I'd first met him, he remembered my parents and me.

Over the next five years, we developed an amiable relationship. His recommendation was instrumental in my acceptance to medical school, and he became something of a mentor to me. Although much of our interaction centered on medicine, occasionally we would find a spare hour to share a coffee or a meal. I enjoyed these times immensely. Carlisle was the closest thing to a real friend that I had.

As we sat together on the bench, I realized that his presence at my graduation meant a great deal to me. In his gaze, I saw both pride and affection, the same emotions reflected in the faces of the fathers of my classmates.

"Edward?" Carlisle's voice drew me from my musings. "Are you all right?"

Running a hand through my hair, I admitted, "I thought I saw my mother."

"While you were walking to your seat?" His tone showed immediate understanding.

I shrugged. "Maybe I should take a cue from Whitlock and consider specializing in psychiatry… or else make a standing appointment with him."

Carlisle placed a hand upon my shoulder again. "Between your hours at the hospital and your non-stop studying, I'm guessing you've gotten very little sleep these last few weeks."

I gave a half nod of acknowledgement.

"You know the effects of sleep deprivation," he said gently. "You're exhausted, Edward."

I really couldn't argue with that. My reflection in the mirror had shown dark smudges beneath my eyes for several days.

Carlisle's tone was soft as he continued, "I know your mother would be very proud of you. Your father would be, too."

My eyes stung again. "Thank you," I managed. We sat quietly for a minute or so until the tightness in my throat eased. "And thank you for coming," I said. "I appreciate your being here."

"It was my pleasure. You've accomplished a great deal, Edward. I'm very proud of you."

I felt a surge of affection for him, and a distant emotional memory tugged at me. This was the way I had felt when my own father had given me a sincere compliment.

"Thank you," I repeated, then gave Carlisle a quick but heartfelt embrace.

"Do you have plans this evening?" he asked. "I know several of your classmates are throwing parties."

"I suppose so, but I hadn't really planned to go."

He gave a nod of understanding. He knew that I was not particularly close to the other students. Even so, a fellow student, future psychiatrist Jasper Whitlock, had extended an invitation to join his celebration. I had declined. I knew he had a fiancée, and he had mentioned that several family members would be there, as well. In no way did I begrudge anyone the happiness that family celebrations brought, but I simply did not have the energy to immerse myself in such an event.

"Then come to dinner with Esme and me," Carlisle said.

I had met his wife several times when she had stopped by the clinic years ago, and more recently when she had brought baked goods to the hospital during a couple of his shifts. While I did not know her well, she struck me as a very kind woman. Indeed, she had made it a point to say hello to me and ask how I was doing whenever one of her visits coincided with one of my stints in the ER.

Still, I hesitated to be a third wheel. "If you and she have plans, I don't want to intrude."

"Intrude?" He arched an eyebrow at me. "We want to celebrate your achievement. You've earned it."

"All right," I agreed.

"You're looking a little better," Carlisle informed me. "If you're up to it, you might speak to the Dean and faculty for a few moments." Then, with a small grin he added, "A bit of schmoozing is usually a good idea."

I always welcomed Carlisle's advice, so I spent the next half hour shaking hands and offering words of gratitude to my professors. By the time I had spoken with each of them, I could feel the exhaustion stalking me. A dull ache lurked behind my eyes, and my steps were slow as I finally made my way to my car.

Carlisle had suggested a small trattoria a few miles from the university, saying it was one of Esme's favorite restaurants. They arrived several minutes after I did, entering the building hand in hand. Their mutual adoration was obvious, and I thought, not for the first time, what a beautiful couple they made. He was tall, lean but muscular, with fine features framed by golden hair. She was average height, but she had a striking figure, and silky caramel-colored hair that curled softly over her shoulders and around her pretty face.

Esme exuded a sense of warmth. The moment she saw me, her face lit up, and she hurried forward to embrace me, offering her congratulations in a gentle yet ebullient tone.

When she drew back, she placed a hand upon my cheek, still smiling. There was something particularly endearing about her. I recalled the way she spoke so kindly and encouragingly to all of the students and interns whenever she visited her husband at work.

She had a lovely, nurturing quality. It came through in spades as her brow furrowed slightly and she said, "You looked exhausted, Edward."

"It's been a tough semester," I agreed.

"You need to get some rest," she continued. "I've never understood the rationale behind making med students and residents keep such long hours. It's certainly not healthy for any of you, and it can't enhance your focus with your patients."

Carlisle smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid it's the nature of the beast. I can't say I'm entirely in favor of it, but attendings don't get much of a say in policy."

"Well, you're due for a good rest," Esme concluded, smoothing a hand over my unruly hair. "You'll have some time off now, won't you?"

"Yes," I replied. "I won't begin my residency until June 18."

She nodded in approval. We were shown to a table, and Carlisle ordered a bottle of Barolo, despite my attempts to protest the expense. He insisted that the occasion warranted a little extravagance.

We chatted affably until the wine arrived. He had mentioned that Esme was an architect, but I knew little else about her work. In response to my queries, she explained that she worked for a well-respected Seattle firm and was currently part of a small team creating designs for a new boutique hotel downtown.

"Esme is in line for a junior partnership," Carlisle added with pride. "Her work is exceptional."

She blushed; she and her husband were both humble people. "I always try to listen to the client—I mean really listen to what he or she wants. Sometimes people can't put their ideas into words clearly, so I attempt to get a sense of the person so that the design can reflect his or her character."

"She's incredible," Carlisle said. "Her designs are works of art."

The wine arrived, and once our glasses had been filled, Carlisle proposed a toast. Now I was the one whose face grew warm. His words were complimentary, encouraging, and affectionate. When he finished his short speech, Esme placed a hand upon my arm, saying, "We're both so proud of you."

I was deeply touched by their sentiments. I did not know now her well, yet I felt her words were utterly sincere. I managed to choke out "thank you" then took a sip of wine. It was very good, a much-needed tonic to soothe my weary mind and body.

By the end of the meal, my glass had been filled and emptied three times. My headache still lingered, but the wine had softened it. However, when I stood up, I faltered. I gripped the edge of my chair for support.

Carlisle was at my side immediately. "Easy," he cautioned benignly. "Do you feel dizzy?"

"Just a little light-headed," I murmured, embarrassed by the slight slurring of my words. "I guess I had too much wine."

"That and lack of sleep will do it," he agreed.

He slipped an arm around me, and before I realized what was happening, he was helping me into the back seat of his car.

"I'm okay," I protested weakly. "I can walk home from here."

Esme was seated beside Carlisle. She turned around to look at me. "Nonsense. You're coming home with us tonight. You are in dire need of some TLC. Doctor's wife's orders."

Carlisle chuckled. "I wouldn't try to argue with her, Edward. You won't win."

Resigned, I allowed my head to fall back against the soft leather and closed my eyes.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

I remembered being helped from the car and led inside a warm house. With Carlisle's arm around me, I shuffled along a hallway and sank down upon a plush mattress. He removed my shoes then assisted me in my slightly clumsy attempts to unbutton my shirt and pants. Esme entered the room just as he pulled the covers over me. She set a tall glass of water on the bedside table, and Carlisle encouraged me to take several sips before I sank down onto the pillow.

My eyes closed immediately, my mind hazy. I felt a cool hand press lightly over my brow and heard a few murmured words: Esme's query, "…ill… the flu?" and Carlisle's soft reply, "… no fever…just exhausted, I think."

I fell asleep while they were still in the room.

I woke once during the night to use the bathroom, finding the glass beside the bed refilled. A bottle of Tylenol had been left for me, as well, and I managed to swallow two tablets with most of the water before succumbing to slumber again.

I felt fairly well in the morning, all things considered. My headache had retreated, and the general sense of fatigue had diminished.

I found Carlisle and Esme in the kitchen. Both smiled at me and asked how I was feeling. They seemed pleased by my report, although Esme declared that I would need several more nights of good sleep to regain my health fully.

She insisted that she would prepare breakfast for me (brunch was probably a more appropriate term, since I had slept until almost ten o'clock). Once again Carlisle advised that I should acquiesce, so I did.

While I ate, they discussed their upcoming vacation. Carlisle would be off for ten days, and they were planning to spend a week at an inn near Tofino on Vancouver Island. Esme explained that Carlisle loved to hike, and, while she enjoyed some time outdoors, she also loved to garden, read, and paint. The inn they were visiting was convenient to many hiking trails and had an extensive garden that supplied much of their renowned restaurant's produce. Esme was excited about several opportunities she had arranged with the chef to join him in the gardens.

I had just finished eating and was enjoying a second cup of coffee when the phone range. Esme answered, stepping into the next room once she realized it was her office calling.

Carlisle asked if I had any plans for my break, and I told him that I was hoping to do some independent study on new surgical techniques.

When Esme returned, her cheerful demeanor had changed. She told us that the lead architect on the hotel project had abruptly left the firm to take a position elsewhere. The senior partner wanted her to take over, hinting broadly that her success on the project would likely lead to an offer of junior partnership.

"That's wonderful, darling," Carlisle said, kissing her cheek.

She shook her head. "Yes, I know… But it means that we'll have to postpone our trip. I'll need to be at the office at least twelve hours a day until the deadline in three weeks."

"Tofino can wait," Carlisle assuaged. "This is your dream, darling."

"It is," she agreed, "but you've been looking forward to the trip for a long time. You haven't had a break in ages."

"I'll still have a break," he replied. "I'll just spend it here. There are always journals to catch up on—"

Without thinking, I nodded in agreement.

Esme shook her head. "Absolutely not!" She tapped a finger gently against Carlisle's chest. "You need some time away. There's no reason you can't go without me."

"Sweetheart," he protested mildly, "I have no desire to go to a romantic inn alone."

A smile twitched at her lips. "Then go somewhere else." Turning to me, she added, "And you, Dr. Masen, are even more in need of a vacation than my husband is." She eyed me critically. "You could definitely use some time outdoors, in the fresh air and sunshine. Do you like to hike?"

"I used to go hiking and camping with friends when I was in high school," I responded. I hadn't thought about that in a long time, but I had always enjoyed being in the woods, inhaling the clean, pine-scented air and sleeping under a canopy of stars.

"Then it's settled," Esme concluded. "You two are going on a backpacking trip."

Carlisle and I exchanged a look. I hadn't known Esme for very long, but already I realized that once she had issued her gentle edict there was no room for argument.

"It sounds good to me," he said.

"Okay," I agreed. "I'm in."

* * *

One week later, Carlisle and I drove from Seattle to the Olympic Peninsula. He and Esme had spent some time hiking and camping in the Olympic National Forest during breaks while he was a resident. He explained that he loved the remoteness of the area, particularly in the late spring before summer visitors arrived.

"It's so quiet, so absolutely tranquil among the towering pines," he told me. "You can clear your mind and energize your spirit. I've always felt more centered, and more satisfied somehow, after a few days in the forest."

I had finally caught up on my sleep and felt better physically than I had in some time. I hadn't understood just how exhausted I was until I'd had a few good nights of sleep. I was ready for an outdoor adventure. Indeed, as we left the city behind and drove into a wooded area, I realized I was looking forward to it more than I'd anticipated. Being away from the university, the hospital, and the city held tremendous appeal to my over-worked mind.

Carlisle was a genial companion. While I had never spent more than a few hours at a time with him in the past, I felt certain that we would get along well during our five-day trek. The drive was pleasant, with easygoing conversation and stretches of comfortable silence. Neither of us was particularly gregarious; we spoke when we had something to say and appreciated the calm quietness in between.

Once we reached the edge of the forest, Carlisle stopped at a ranger station to purchase a camping permit. He and the ranger chatted for a little while. They had met once several years ago when Carlisle had helped with a search and rescue operation. The park ranger—McCarty was his name—was a jovial fellow who clearly admired Carlisle. He wished us a good trip and told me that I was fortunate to have such a skilled outdoorsman as my companion.

Carlisle drove a short distance to the lot where we would leave the car then unloaded our packs. Soon we were walking along a trail. The day was cloudy, and a light mist shrouded the trees.

"It's rarely sunny here," he informed me, "but when the sun does break through, it's almost breath-taking."

I nodded, shivering slightly in the chill. I wore a light but warm coat, and I knew that once our pace increased I would feel more comfortable. The mist gave the forest an ethereal quality that was somehow welcoming to me. I felt as though I had entered a different world. The solitude was wonderful.

Carlisle smiled when he noticed my expression. "You look happy," he noted.

"I feel happy," I replied. "This is just what I needed. Remind me to thank Esme."

"She usually knows best," he said with a chuckle.

"You're a lucky man."

"I am," he agreed.

"How long have you been married?" I asked.

"Almost ten years—although sometimes it feels like it's been much longer. But I don't mean that in a negative way."

"I think I understand." I wasn't entirely sure that I did, but he spoke with such warmth that questioning him seemed insensitive. Besides, it was probably my lack of experience in the romance department that left me slightly perplexed by his response. "How did you meet?" I inquired.

"She was a patient when I was an intern."

Esme was so elegant and graceful. With an ironic grin, I said, "Let me guess. She had a broken leg."

Now his blissful expression shifted slightly. "No. If only it had been something so innocuous." He took a long breath before speaking again. "She was a victim of domestic abuse… her husband. She was six months pregnant and went into premature labor after a beating. We couldn't save the baby; we almost couldn't save her."

"Oh God, Carlisle, I'm sorry." My voice was husky with emotion.

"I've tried to bring her every bit of happiness that I could in the time we've been together. She deserves that."

"Of course. She's an amazing woman."

"Yes, she is."

"She treated all your med students as if they were her own children," I added, feeling a need to elaborate. "And she's been exceptionally kind to me. She'll be a terrific mother one day."

Carlisle's steps halted abruptly. "She can't have children, Edward."

I could see that it pained him to tell me this. While the new physician in me prickled with professional curiosity, I hesitated to question him further about the matter. So I simply said, "Oh. I didn't realize…"

"Nor should you have. We've considered adoption, of course, and may pursue that in earnest in a few years—perhaps one or two older children, since they tend to be overlooked. Right now we're both focusing on our careers."

I nodded. "It seems like you're both on track there."

"We hope so." Trying to lighten the mood, he gave me a half-smile and said, "And what about you? You've never mentioned a girlfriend or even going on a date. I know med school took up all of your time, but what about when you were in college?"

"I finished my Bachelor's in two-and-a-half years," I reminded him. "I barely had time to eat or sleep."

"Ah, that's right. In high school, then?"

I shook my head. "I went to a couple of dances my sophomore and junior year with a girl named Tanya, but that was about it."

"You do know that several of your med school classmates were quite interested in you, right?"

I had never really thought about it. "Were they?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

"A few nurses, too—both male and female."

I chuckled. "Are you wondering which I prefer?"

"It's none of my business," he said lightly. "And it wouldn't matter to me, either way."

"Just for the record, my preference is definitely girls."

"Hmm. I think that Miss Stanley—Dr. Stanley now—would be quite happy to accommodate you."

"Jessica?" I grimaced. "No thanks. She's not my type."

"Do you have a type?"

I considered that for a few moments. "I'm not sure. I suppose I'd prefer someone thoughtful and quiet, intelligent and inquisitive… not someone brash."

"Then definitely not Jessica," he agreed with a grin. "Well, I hope that one day you'll meet someone who can bring you as much happiness as Esme has brought me."

I gave a small shrug. I had been alone for a very long time. Just developing a friendship with Carlisle felt like a new experience, and it was enough for now.

* * *

We veered off of the trail after an hour or so. Carlisle knew the forest well enough to lead us through the dense evergreens and toward a meadow where we planned to make camp for the night. We stopped by a stream for lunch, and shortly after we began moving again the sun peeked through the thick layer of clouds. I blinked in the brightness.

The weather remained pleasant for the rest of the day. We reached the meadow in the late afternoon and set up camp. Carlisle had chosen a very pretty spot. Surrounded by dense forest, the lea was a little oasis. Tiny lavender and white flowers dotted the lush, green grass. While I had enjoyed the quiet darkness of the woods, the open space was a welcome sight. It was the perfect place to spend the night.

Carlisle began setting up the tent while I cleared a small area for a fire. I stepped back into the trees to gather some wood. I found a large, dry branch and broke off several sizable pieces. Arms full of firewood, I began walking back toward the meadow, taking small steps, since my armload impeded my field of vision.

Despite my careful movements, my foot caught on something hard, and I felt myself falling forward. I released the bundle of wood before I hit the ground, but one of the pieces rasped over my cheek. I landed with an "oof" and then an oath, my face stinging almost as much as my pride.

Slowly I got back on my feet and picked up the wood, this time carrying only what I could hold in each hand. I kept my eyes on the ground as I trudged back to the meadow.

When I stepped out of the trees, Carlisle looked up from his task. His smile turned to a scowl when he saw my face. I dumped the wood into the firepit with a shake of my head.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I had a little altercation with the firewood," I explained. "The wood won." I lifted my hand to touch my throbbing cheek. My fingers felt damp, and I was dismayed to find a streak of red across my hand.

Carlisle's eyes moved over me. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. It's just a scratch."

He walked back to his pack, kneeling down to remove the first aid bag. He gestured for me to sit in front of him then unzipped the kit, removing a packaged alcohol wipe. He held my chin gently with one hand and used the other to dab my cheekbone with the alcohol; I tried not to wince at the sting. He inspected the damage with a clinical eye.

"Just a superficial laceration," he informed me. He cleaned it thoroughly and applied some Bacitracin.

When he had finished, I thanked him then apologized for troubling him.

"It's no trouble, Edward," he replied genially. "These things happen." He slid up his sleeve to reveal faint white scarring on his antecubital crease. "I was trying to impress Esme with my rock climbing skills a few years ago, and I slipped."

"Ouch," I offered sympathetically.

"It could have been worse. I didn't fracture anything, but I needed a few sutures. I gave Esme quite a scare. I purchased a better kit after that, mostly to ease her mind." He chuckled and added, "I also had to promise her that you and I would avoid rock faces."

"No arguments from me. The last thing I want to do is practice my suture technique on you."

Still grinning, he said, "So we're agreed: No rock climbing and no more wrangling with killer trees."

I pressed my hand beneath my sore cheek. "Agreed."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Note: This story was inspired by Some Kind of Sin; I used her former penname (Blue Kai) when I acknowledged her previously. I just want to clarify in case readers are interested in her stories, which are wonderful!**_

* * *

Nightfall brought a sharp decrease in temperature. We sat close to the fire, soaking up the heat of the red and orange flames. Dinner had consisted of packets of spicy chana masala and hot tea. Now, with full bellies, we relaxed in the circle of warmth. Carlisle had brought a small flask of brandy, and we passed it back and forth a few times.

We were both quiet for a little while, each immersed in thought. I felt certain that Carlisle's musings centered on his wife, while mine flitted between recent and more distant memories. I recalled the brilliance of the sunshine as it broke through the clouds earlier in the day, and then I had a hazy recollection of a similar occurrence many years ago.

I had been with my father; it was one of the few times when he and I had spent a Saturday together. I was very young, perhaps four or five, and he had taken me to a park so that I could ride the merry-go-round. I remembered how much it had meant to me to have my father watch as I sat proudly and fearlessly on the big horse. The day had turned cloudy, though, and a light drizzle had begun. My father had told me that it was time to leave, but I had wanted to ride the carousel one more time. He had shaken his head and lifted me from the brightly painted horse, carrying me back to the car as hot tears ran down my cheeks. He deposited me in the back seat, and we drove toward home in silence. Just as we were pulling into the driveway, the sky brightened, and as he opened my door he smiled, pointing upward. I followed his gesture and saw a rainbow stretching across the sky.

"Edward?" Carlisle questioned.

I blinked in the firelight. "What?"

"You looked as if you were a million miles away. Are you all right?"

I nodded. "I was just thinking about my father."

I did not discuss my parents with others; when asked where they lived, I would provide the concise reply, "They're deceased." I never provided further details. Carlisle probably knew more about them than anyone else with whom I had contact, and even his knowledge was only what he had gleaned from his brief interaction with them in the ER. Yet here, beneath the canopy of stars and surrounded by the comfort of the fire, I felt less reticent.

"Yes?" Carlisle responded, his tone open yet not intrusive.

"He was a lawyer," I said. "He was very successful, and he was always working. I didn't spend much time with him."

Carlisle gave me an understanding nod.

"He wanted me to follow in his professional footsteps," I continued. "Until I was seventeen, I never considered doing anything else."

"Parental expectations can be daunting."

"Yes, they can. If my parents were still here, I have no doubt that I'd be an attorney now."

"Did your mother want that for you, too?" he asked.

A poignant smile tugged at my lips. "She just wanted me to be happy. She encouraged me to pursue my interests… she even bought a piano for me when I told her I wanted to study music."

"Do you play?" he asked with interest.

"I haven't in years, but I did study from the third grade until I began high school."

"I imagine you played quite well." He inclined his head toward my hands. "You have the hands of either a musician or a surgeon."

"Huh." I glanced down, thinking of something else that felt like a very distant memory. "My piano teacher wanted me to audition for Interlochen—that's the fine arts summer program in Michigan."

"Very prestigious," he said. "I had a high school friend who went."

"I never mentioned it to my father," I finished with a shrug.

Carlisle leaned forward, his hair a golden halo in the light from the flames. "Edward, I know that he would be proud of you. You've accomplished so much, and you're going to be an exceptional physician. Never doubt that you chose the right field."

"I know I did," I said softly. "I hope he would approve; I feel certain that my mother would." I rubbed at the bridge of my nose as I recalled that flash of coppery hair in the auditorium.

He offered me the flask again, and I took another sip. As I passed it back to him, I asked, "Are your parents still living?"

He didn't answer until he had swallowed some more brandy. "No. My mother died in childbirth, and my father passed away when I was twenty-three."

I hadn't realized that we shared this circumstance. "I'm sorry. Was he a physician, too?"

Carlisle's short, mirthless laugh surprised me. "No. He was minister."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Like your father, he wanted me to follow in his footsteps, at least spiritually. He believed in a strict interpretation of the Bible: His sermons were full of fire and brimstone; he preached that sinners were destined for hell, and his list of those who qualified as sinners was as thick as one of his hymnals. I didn't question his faith until I was a teenager. By that point, he had become almost tyrannical in his beliefs. He was completely intolerant, viewing all those he deemed sinners as something close to monsters. He began organizing protests outside of women's clinics, gay bars, anywhere he considered evil, hoping to encourage those so-called sinners to repent."

Carlisle took a breath before continuing. "He took me with him a few times. I'm still deeply ashamed that I held those signs… and those beliefs. Paradoxically, it was my participation in those events that led me to question my father's beliefs. I saw the faces of those people he considered sinners. I looked into their eyes, searching for some sign of the evil he told me was there, but instead I saw fear, hurt, longing, hope, and pride. I saw their humanity and realized that they were no more evil than I was. Indeed, I was the monster, holding those signs that caused them pain.

"By the time I graduated from high school, I had rejected almost the entirety of my father's religion. I still consider myself a deeply spiritual person, but I can never affiliate myself with a specific church again." He took another sip from the flask then continued, "Would you like to know the most ironic part of my father's life?" Without waiting for my response, he finished, "He suffered a fatal myocardial infarction while protesting outside a women's clinic. Two nurses came out and tried to save him, but he was already gone."

"Damn," I exhaled, not sure what else to say.

"Yes." He stared into the fire as he spoke. "That was why I applied to medical school. I had graduated from college with a degree in philosophy- a major I hoped would help me to understand the tenets that underlie religious thought. I'd always had an aptitude for sciences, too, so had minored in biochemistry. After my father died, I wanted to do something to help make up for the pain he had caused others through his beliefs and actions. Those two nurses who came out of the clinic and worked over him—the man who had cursed them as sinners only moments before—touched me deeply. I wanted to be like them, to provide care and comfort and healing to others without judgment or prejudice. I suppose it was my way of trying to atone for some of the things my father did."

His story left me slightly stunned. He had never hinted at his background; I had always assumed he'd had loving, broad-minded parents who had instilled these qualities in him. "My God, Carlisle, I had no idea…"

"There's no reason you should have." His gaze shifted to me, and he offered me a smile tinged with apology. "I haven't told many people about my father; I still carry a great deal of shame."

"His beliefs and actions weren't your fault," I said.

"Perhaps not. But in retrospect I've wondered if I could have done something to help him to be less judgmental and more accepting."

"I think that we have to focus on the present and the future; dwelling on the past doesn't do any good. We can't change it."

"You're right, Edward." He took another sip of brandy then offered the flask to me again.

"I'm good," I replied.

He nodded and tucked the small container away in his pack. We sat without speaking for several minutes. I looked up at the vast canopy of stars, while his eyes returned to the flickering flames. When he spoke again, the conversation returned to a lighter tone, but a faint tightness remained in my chest. I realized that I felt empathy for him, an emotion that I had not permitted myself to experience in a very long time.

* * *

The night was cold; a layer of frost covered the meadow when we woke. The sky was steel gray, threatening rain later in the day. After breakfast, we broke camp and packed up our things.

Carlisle wanted to hike north, higher up into the mountains. The scenery was breath-taking, he explained, with rugged ravines and spectacular waterfalls. He knew of an area with several small caves where we could make camp for the night. The shelter would likely be welcome if the weather didn't clear. I was agreeable to his recommendations.

Despite some light drizzle, the hike was quite enjoyable. Carlisle was knowledgeable about both botany and geology, pointing out various plants and different types of rocks. We moved at a steady pace, gradually gaining altitude, but I didn't feel fatigued. Indeed, I found myself more energized than I had been in a long time.

Carlisle seemed to find the hike invigorating, too. When we stopped for lunch, he told me that we had gone almost four miles. The caves were another three miles, further up the mountain. The incline was not terribly steep, and he thought we could reach our destination in three to four hours. He had an excellent sense of direction, but he consulted his compass occasionally just to be certain we were on the right track.

We had gone about two miles when the downpour began. Quickly we pulled rain ponchos from our packs and sought shelter beneath a massive evergreen. The rain slackened after about half an hour, then the skies began to clear. So when I heard a rumble overhead, I wondered where the thunder had come from.

Carlisle looked up, his eyes scanning the slope ahead of us. He muttered a curse under his breath.

"What is it?" I asked as an odd feeling came over me.

"Rockslide," he replied shortly. "Come on!"

We moved quickly, veering off to what I thought was the west. We heard the boulders crashing down the mountainside and felt the ground shake, our eyes trained above. Thankfully, we had managed to get out of the path of the tumbling rocks. But we were both sobered by the experience.

"We can't risk getting in the path of another one," he said. "We need to change our route and head back to flatter ground."

"Good idea," I agreed.

He looked around then reached for the compass. He patted at the outer pocket on his coat then thrust his hand inside. "It's not here," he said with a frown.

He checked his other pockets and even his pack, but the compass was gone. "Damn it. It must've fallen out."

"Should we go back and look for it?"

"We can backtrack a bit, but it's not safe to go near that unstable area."

We retraced our steps for several hundred yards, our eyes trained on the ground, but we could not find the compass.

"We'd better move on," he finally said.

"Do you know where we are?" I asked.

"More or less. We're heading southeast now. We should be able to see a tributary of the Queets River in a couple of miles. Once we find the river, I'll know exactly where we are."

We walked for an hour before a ravine opened up to the west of our path. Carlisle's brow furrowed at the sight.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "This is the tributary, isn't it?"

"I don't think so," he answered, obviously perplexed. "It should be to the east." He turned to look up at the mountainside then his gaze moved to the sky above. I could tell that he was trying to get his bearings.

I walked toward the edge of the gorge. The sides were steep and rocky; the stream lay about 100 feet below me. My gaze moved down to watch the steady flow of the water. The stream looked dark and cold beneath the cloudy sky.

The side of the ravine upon which I stood was in shadow, so at first my mind didn't register the lighter object on the bank. It was only as I began to turn away that I realized I'd seen something… something that didn't belong.

I peered down again, trying to focus on the small mound. I saw the splash of color first: cornflower blue. With a small gasp, I recognized the outline of a body. The person wore a jacket, but only a narrow strip of fabric appeared blue, as the arms were saturated with water. The body was curled inward, and from where I stood I could only make out the back and the head… and the hair. Dark hair fanned out over the rocks upon which she lay.

"My God, Carlisle!" I exclaimed, "there's someone down there!"

My eyes still focused on the unmoving woman, I leaned over the edge of the ravine. "Hey! Hello?" I called.

I received no response, and I saw no movement. I dropped to my knees, my hands gripping the rock as I yelled again: "Hello! Can you hear me?"

The echo of my voice was the only reply. Carlisle was crouched at my side now, staring at the motionless figure below. "She may be hurt—or worse," he said.

"We have to help her," I replied immediately. I shrugged out of my pack, preparing to climb down.

"Wait, Edward," Carlisle cautioned. "That's a perilous descent."

He was already reaching into his backpack, pulling out a skein of nylon rope. He shot to his feet and looped one end of the rope around the nearest tree, securing it with a tight knot. My eyes moved from him to the woman below, watching for any hint of movement, any sign of life. I squinted through the shadows when I caught a tiny motion, the flutter of fingers from her left hand.

"She moved her hand," I exclaimed. "She's definitely alive. Hurry, Carlise!"

He nodded, continuing to work with the rope. As soon as it was tied, I let the length of it fall down the side of the rock face. I gripped the rope in my left hand then used my right to support my body as I clambered over the edge.

"Careful," Carlisle said. "I'll be right behind you as soon as you reach the ground."

I gave him a quick nod then began to climb down. The rock was damp in spots, slick in others. My descent seemed to take hours, yet I knew it was only a matter of minutes. My feet slipped, and several times I scrabbled to keep my grip on the rope. I was perhaps 30 feet from the bottom when I hit a particularly slippery rock. I kicked out, automatically trying to find purchase.

"Watch out, Edward," Carlisle cried from above, "the rocks are loose!"

Even as he spoke, I could feel the rocks giving way. I shifted, moving sideways as a shower of stone plummeted toward the stream.

"Damn it!" I cursed in both fear and vexation.

Heart pounding, I half fell, half scrabbled toward the ground, craning my neck to watch the tumbling rocks. The bulk of the debris landed some distance from the woman, but a few smaller stones pelted her still body. My skin was suddenly clammy with the realization that in my haste to reach her I could have killed her.

When I was less than six feet from the ground, I dropped to my feet. My landing was not as smooth as I had anticipated, however, and I ended up on my knees. I cursed again then scrambled to my feet. My right knee gave a throb of protest, but I ignored it as I shambled toward the woman.

She was small, slender and little more than five feet tall. She lay partially in the water, most of her clothing saturated and dark. I couldn't see her face; it was turned toward the ground and partially obscured by the thick, sable hair that cascaded over her shoulders. I dropped to my knees at her side, immediately reaching for her wrist.

Her skin was very cold, but I felt a pulse. It thrummed against my fingers, fast and light, and for a moment my eyes were fixed upon her delicate hand. Her skin looked like porcelain. Gently I set her hand upon the ground, then I moved the hair away from her face, careful not to shift her body in case she had a spinal injury.

Her eyes were closed, her lashes long and dark against her pale cheeks. She was a young woman—I estimated early twenties—and struck me as very pretty. For a moment I wondered what the hell she was doing out here. I glanced around quickly. Until now, it hadn't occurred to me to check if there was anyone with her. I saw no one, nor any evidence of other hikers: There we no packs, no signs of camping.

I returned my attention to the woman's face. Her cheek was bruised, and her lower lip was swollen. There was a deep abrasion on her forehead, just below her hairline; a contusion was forming at the injury site, too. Was this the reason she was unconscious? I placed my hand against her back and counted her respirations, frowning at what I found.

Now my eyes moved over her more critically. I would not move her until Carlisle arrived, but I could look for evidence of serious injury while I waited. Clearly she was suffering from at least mild hypothermia, and I wanted desperately to pull her from the icy stream. Knowing I could not, at least not yet, made my chest ache.

"We'll get you warm soon," I said, barely aware that I was speaking to her.

I ran a hand over her hair as my gaze took in her shoulders and arms. I studied the position of her limbs, seeing no evidence of displacement. I continued my visual inspection, noting that her right leg was drawn in toward her body while the left remained straight. Both legs were in the shallow water. The streambed was dark, covered with some sort of black stone. It took me several seconds to notice the blood in the water. When I did, I blinked, moving down to look at her legs. Now I could see that her left leg was bleeding.

I felt slightly nauseated when I realized that the near-freezing water would slow the blood flow from a superficial wound. This was something much more serious.

"Hang on," I told her. "We're going to help you. Carlisle will know what to do."

A few moments later he was at my side. He had left his pack at the top of the ravine but had slung the emergency kit over his shoulder. He dropped to his knees, reaching for her wrist as I reported the little that I knew.

"Pulse is 120," I told him, "respiration 24. She has a contusion on her forehead, and there's a wound on her left leg that's still bleeding. She hasn't regained consciousness."

He gave a quick nod of acknowledgement, already beginning his assessment. He examined her head and neck with precise yet careful motions, determining that there were no indications of spinal injury.

"Let's get her out of the water so I can see the leg wound," he said.

As quickly yet gently as possible, we lifted her body and carried her away from the stream. In the few seconds this required, blood began to drip from her leg, pooling on the ground beneath her.

"Get the kit," Carlisle instructed as he began to examine her leg.

I hurried to retrieve the bag, vaguely aware that my knee resisted each step. As soon as I was back beside Carlisle, he told me to cut away the woman's pant leg. I opened the kit and found the EMT shears then hastily clipped off the fabric over her thigh. Carlisle pulled away the material to expose the lower half of her leg.

"Gauze," he requested, using several of the squares that I provided to wipe away some of the blood. He pressed several more squares over the injury, but the hemorrhaging did not cease. "Damn it," he muttered. "I need a tourniquet. Your belt, Edward."

I removed the item immediately and handed it to him, watching as he wrapped and tightened it above her knee. Quickly I reviewed my knowledge of types of bleeding. The blood was dark; if it were an arterial bleed, it would be lighter in color.

"How bad, Carlisle?" I asked with considerable trepidation.

"She's got a deep laceration—looks like it nicked the saphenous vein. She's lost a lot of blood… and I don't know what other injuries she has." He gestured for me to pass him the kit, and he rummaged through it to remove a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. He handed them to me. "Check her pressure. I'm going to assess for other injuries."

I slid up the sleeve of her jacket and wrapped the cuff around her arm. I found that my hands were shaking as I performed the simple procedure. Carlisle lifted her hand and checked her capillary refill. By the time I had gotten the reading, he had found a penlight and was checking her eyes.

"BP's 100 over 75," I reported.

He gave a nod; he'd expected this. "She's hypovolemic. We need to control the bleeding—I'll have to try to close the wound." He had opened her jacket and was now checking her ribs. He frowned as he pressed gently over left side, and a small sigh escaped him. "I think the sixth and seventh ribs are fractured."

He continued his examination, his hands moving systematically over her abdomen, shoulders, and hips. He reached for the stethoscope and spent a few moments listening to her lungs. Finally, he reported, "Looks like the ribs and laceration are the most serious issues. She may have a mild concussion, too."

"How's her breathing?"

"Her lungs sound okay for now. We need to be very careful moving her, though."

I knew he was concerned about the rib fractures; with an injury to the chest wall, there was a possibility for a pneumothorax to occur.

"Right," I agreed.

He was rummaging through the pack again. He removed a suture kit and bandages.

"What can I do?" I asked, feeling almost desperate to provide some sort of useful assistance.

"Clean the area around the wound," he replied, passing me a small bottle of Betadine.

He prepared the supplies while I carefully wiped away the blood. I could see the laceration now. It was about four centimeters long with ragged, gaping edges. I wondered what had caused it.

After Carlisle irrigated the wound, we both donned gloves. I held the young woman's leg with one hand as he improvised a retractor using the small set of forceps from the kit. It was the best option available. Once he had positioned the instrument, he placed my fingers around it.

"Keep it steady," he cautioned.

"I will," I said, willing my hand not to tremble. In my final year of med school, I had assisted with similar procedures and had felt curious and intrigued, but now I was apprehensive.

Carlisle worked quickly, his motions deft, and after few minutes he proclaimed, "Got it," relief evident in his tone. I released my grip on the forceps, and he began suturing the dermal layer.

Now I held her leg with both hands. Suddenly I felt my hands twitch but not of my own volition. The woman moaned, a soft and distressed sound, and she tried to pull back her leg.

"Edward," Carlisle admonished, "keep her still."

I turned my head to look at her. She had opened her eyes, but her gaze seemed unfocused.

"It's all right," I said as calmly as I was able. "Don't try to move. You've been hurt, but we're taking care of you."

"Hurt," she whispered, but I couldn't tell if she was asking a question or making a statement. Her brown eyes blinked at me, confusion and fear clear even in her hazy gaze.

"I know," I tried to assuage, "but you'll be okay." I glanced at Carlisle; he was still suturing the leg lac. Hoping to distract her, I said, "My name is Edward. Can you tell me your name?"

Her pretty brow furrowed, and her eyelids fluttered. She sighed softly, then her lips moved. I leaned down and heard an almost ethereal whisper: "Bella."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

As I knelt beside the injured young woman, the gentle whisper of her name seemed to linger in my mind.

"Bella. That's a pretty name…" My voice trailed off when I realized that she had slipped into unconsciousness again.

Carlisle looked up, his eyes moving quickly from her face to mine. "The bandages," he requested.

I nodded, passing him the supplies while keeping one hand around Bella's slender leg. I noticed again how pale and cold her skin was.

"I think she's hypothermic," I said.

Carlisle nodded. "We need to warm her up. It could be some time before we can get a medivac team out here. There's a rescue blanket in the pack." He had pulled off his gloves and was reaching for his phone.

I found the blanket and set it over her. Damp hair clung to her face. I brushed away a few strands.

"Damn it," Carlisle cursed softly. "No signal down here."

I looked up. His expression was grim yet determined. He stood, saying, "I'll try again up at the top. I need to get our packs anyway. I don't think the weather's going to hold much longer, and lying out here in the rain is the last thing she needs. Are you okay staying with her for a few minutes?"

I hesitated for a second. She would be in much better professional hands if Carlisle remained with her, but I felt loath to leave her. Besides, I knew that he was a much more experienced rock climber and would return with our packs faster than I could. "I think so," I finally replied.

"She's stable for the moment," he reassured me. "I can be up and back in fifteen minutes."

"Right," I nodded.

"Try to keep her calm if she wakes again, and don't let her move." He was already hastening away.

I watched Bella assiduously, noting each small rise and fall of her chest. Her skin was so fair, almost translucent, that I could see each tiny thrum of blood as it pulsed through the exterior jugular vein in her neck. Her eyes did not move beneath her pale lids. I didn't wish her to awake and experience further pain, but I found myself longing to see those soft brown eyes again.

After about five minutes, I checked her pulse again. It was unchanged. She would need fluids soon to replenish her blood volume. I glanced up at the edge of the ravine. Carlisle was nearly to the top. He would be able to contact emergency services very soon, and I hoped they would dispatch a rescue team immediately.

My gaze moved to the sky, and my feeling of urgency surged. The clouds had thickened; they were heavy and dark now. In the distance, I heard thunder. Without thinking, I moved closed to Bella, leaning over her to protect her body as a few drops of rain spattered over us.

Carlisle lowered one of the packs to the ground with a rope, then he climbed down with the other. By the time he had reached the floor of the ravine, the thunderclaps had grown louder, and I saw distant flashes of lightning.

Carlisle hurried over to us. He had slipped on his rain poncho, so I couldn't see his face until he bent down beside me. His expression was dour.

"There's been no change in her pulse or respiration," I reported.

He gave a nod, then said, "I couldn't get a signal—could be the storm, or the mountains might be blocking it."

"Damn," I muttered. "So how do we get her out of here?"

"For the moment, we don't. Our first priority is getting her warm. The storm's going to hit any minute. We're probably safe from lightning down here, but there's a possibility of rockslides, and the stream will likely flood."

He was scanning the area as he spoke. He pointed behind me, and I twisted my head to look.

"There," he said, indicating an area about fifty yards away.

The ravine widened slightly, and the land at the base of the wall was somewhat higher than here. The rock face had several small outcroppings with scrub pine.

"That should be good," he continued. "Less chance of rock slides due to the vegetation, and it's high enough that we should be safe from the water unless it rises drastically. I'll get the tent set up, then we'll move her."

I remained with Bella while he hurriedly prepared the tent. I paid little attention to his actions, however; my focus was on her. The rain began to come down in large, heavy drops before Carlisle had finished. I shielded Bella's head with my body. The rescue blanket kept her legs and torso relatively dry.

By the time Carlisle returned, I was drenched and shivering. I slid my hands under Bella's shoulders, while Carlisle carefully lifted her legs.

"We need to keep her as steady as possible," he reminded me unnecessarily. I knew how critical it was to prevent any jarring that could exacerbate the rib fractures.

I began to stand as we lifted her. A sharp jolt of pain assaulted my right knee, but I ignored it. My only priority was getting Bella to the warmth and safety of the tent. I was walking backwards, trying to keep my footing steady on the rough ground. I didn't realize that I was clenching my teeth until Carlisle spoke sharply.

"Edward. What's wrong?"

"I'm just trying to keep from stumbling… ground's rocky."

He gave a quick shake of his head. "You're limping."

"I just twisted my knee a little. I'm fine."

"Wait. Stop for a second. Let me get in front."

He moved around me carefully, holding Bella's legs without faltering, and we continued. The walk felt like one of the longest of my life. With each step, the pain in my knee flared, but I suppressed it as much as possible. However, by the time we reached the tent, I was breathing heavily and struggling to remain on my feet.

We managed to get Bella inside the shelter. Carlisle had brought a three-person tent, feeling it would be more comfortable given that we were both slightly over six feet tall. I was grateful now that we had the extra room. He had rolled out his sleeping bag and spread a dry tarp on top of it. Gently we set Bella upon the tarp. Gingerly I eased myself down beside her. Carlisle shed his poncho. He pulled away the rescue blanket then shrugged the emergency pack from his shoulder. He reached inside for the shears and began cutting away her damp clothing.

"Dry her hair as much as possible," he instructed while he pulled away the sodden fabric.

I removed a towel from my pack and wrapped her long hair, pressing the thick coil between my palms to remove as much water as I could. My hands shook with cold, although I tried to keep them steady.

Carlisle looked up from his task, appraising me with a critical yet sympathetic eye. "Get out of those wet clothes," he said.

"I'm… okay," I protested, but my teeth clamped together to betray me.

"Edward, just do it. You won't be any help to her if you become hypothermic, too."

Mechanically I complied, pulling off my shoes and socks then stripping out of my jacket, shirt, and jeans. As quickly as possible I blotted my skin with another microfiber towel. I was reaching into my pack for a dry shirt when Carlisle stopped me.

"Wait a moment," he said.

He had removed the tarp and unzipped the sleeping bag, partially covering Bella. I could see her bare, pale shoulders and the soft curve of her hip.

"Edward?" Carlisle's voice seemed to come from far away.

I blinked at him through the dim light. "What?"

"Get into your sleeping bag for a couple of minutes," he said.

"No, I'm all right," I began, but he lifted a hand in contradiction.

"You need to get warm," he told me firmly. "Then you can help her to get warm."

Instantly I understood. I unzipped my sleeping bag and crawled inside. I began to feel warmer almost immediately. Soon I stopped shivering, and within a few minutes the chill had left me.

"I'm better," I reported, my teeth no longer chattering.

Carlisle gave a nod then gestured for me to lie down beside Bella. She lay partially on her left side; the injured ribs were on her right. "Careful," he cautioned. "Press your body up against hers, but watch out for the ribs."

"I know," I replied, but I appreciated his concern for her just the same.

Cautiously I stretched out beside Bella. Her skin remained very cold, and she was still unconscious. I turned onto my side, moving so that my chest touched her back. I settled my legs against hers, mindful of the injury on her calf. Gingerly I placed my arm over her hip then opened my hand so that my palm spread over her abdomen.

"That's good, Edward," Carlisle confirmed. He zipped his sleeping bag then set mine on top for extra warmth.

I lay curled behind Bella for some time. I could feel the gentle beating of her heart and the soft movement of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled. Carlisle was monitoring her vitals, and so was I.

After perhaps fifteen minutes he rested his hand against her cheek. "She's warming," he said.

I nodded, pressing myself infinitesimally closer to her.

"How are you doing?" he asked me.

"Fine," I replied, although my voice was husky.

My knee throbbed dully even as I lay still. I could feel that it was swelling, but I doubted that I had injured it seriously.

Once Bella had warmed further and Carlisle judged that she was no longer hypothermic, he carefully dressed her in one of the flannel shirts I'd packed. I slipped a pair of warm socks onto her delicate feet, then with some reluctance I moved aside so that Carlisle could check her leg and get another blood pressure reading. When he had finished, he zipped her into the sleeping bag again. She didn't rouse, but she stirred slightly, curling up a bit. Huddled inside the bag, she looked very small and fragile. I realized that Carlisle and I both had our gazes fixed on her.

"What are we going to do?" I asked softly.

Rain continued to drum against the tent as thunder rumbled overhead. We were safe for now, but Bella needed to be in a hospital.

"She's relatively stable at the moment," he replied.

"She needs fluids," I countered.

He looked up at me, his countenance serious but not grave. "They'd help, but her pressure's a little better now that she's warmed. As long as we can prevent any more bleeding, I think she'll be all right for now. Once the weather clears, we'll see how she's doing and make a decision based on that."

"What are our options?"

"One of us can go for help. Hopefully we can get phone service at some point."

"And if we can't?"

"We'll have to carry her out of here."

"How far?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I'd estimate it's about fifteen miles back to the ranger station, but I'm not sure precisely where we are." He ran a hand through his hair, his expression apologetic. "Right now, we just need to wait out the storm… and I want to take a look at your knee."

I had pulled on a shirt when I left Bella's side but had not attempted to put on a dry pair of jeans. I was trying not to focus on the discomfort in my knee, but I realized that the motions required to finish dressing would prove painful. Additionally, there was a chance I might need to provide more body heat for Bella. Skin-to-skin contact was best.

Carlisle moved around Bella so that he could sit in front of me. Immediately his eyes fixed on my injured knee. I had avoided looking at it too closely, but now I permitted myself to study it. It was swollen, but the patella appeared to be in the right place. That was something, I supposed…

Carlisle took my leg gently in his hands, asking, "How much does it hurt?"

I gave a shrug. "It doesn't feel good."

He arched an eyebrow at me. "I'll take that as 'a lot.' Did you feel or hear a pop when you fell on it?"

"No, I don't think so."

"How did it feel when you walked on it? Any instability, or just pain?"

I had been so intent on getting Bella to the tent that I had given little thought to my knee. I had favored my left leg considerably during the short journey. "I'm not sure," I finally replied. "I was trying not to use it."

"Try moving it," he suggested.

I bent it slightly and hissed in pain, trying not to utter the expletives that ran through my mind. It hurt.

"Okay," Carlisle said, "keep it still." His fingers pressed around the joint, and when he touched the outside and back of my knee I winced. "Tender?" he asked.

"Yes," I admitted.

Carlisle sat back on his heels. He looked decidedly unhappy.

"It's just a sprain, right?" I asked, hoping for the best.

"No," he said grimly. "It looks like you've torn your ACL."

My studies in orthopedics came flooding back to me. A tear to the anterior cruciate ligament was bad; it usually required surgery. Now an expletive did escape me. I glanced quickly over to Bella, but she had not stirred.

"Are you sure?" I asked Carlisle.

He shook his head. "Not a hundred percent. We'll need an MRI and an ortho consult to be certain."

Carlisle held little conceit or arrogance about his professional talents, but it was well known to others that his diagnoses were rarely wrong. He was an extremely talented physician, but for once I sincerely hoped he was mistaken.

He helped me to elevate my leg by resting my foot on my pack. Then he searched through the emergency kit and removed a cold pack. After activating it, he set it over my knee. "This should help with the pain and swelling—twenty minutes, then I'll wrap it."

I gave a nod of understanding. I was familiar enough with the RICE treatment for joint injuries: rest, ice, compression, elevation.

He produced a small pill bottle and shook out two tablets. "Ibuprofen," he said as I swallowed them with a swig of water.

"Thanks," I acknowledged glumly.

Carlisle placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder. "You'll have some relief from the pain soon."

"I know."

It was not the pain that bothered me—although it was definitely unpleasant. I hated the thought that I was incapacitated. I had been completely self-sufficient and had taken care of myself since I was seventeen. More troubling, though, was that with my injury I might be limited in what I could do to help Bella.

As my gaze moved to her again, she gave a little whimper. Her eyelids fluttered, and I realized she was beginning to rouse. Instinctively I reached over to touch her cheek, saying softly, "It's okay, Bella. You're safe."

She opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light. Carlisle had positioned himself on her other side, ready to restrain her gently should she begin to move. He placed a hand on her shoulder, cautioning her in a soothing voice, "Try to remain still. You could injure yourself further if you move."

She looked up at him, her pretty brow furrowed, then her gaze shifted to me. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened with a little gasp.

When she spoke, the single word surprised me. She murmured, "Angels."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

Bella's comment elicited a soft chuckle from Carlisle. Perhaps this wasn't the first time he'd been mistaken for an ethereal creature. But Bella's eyes remained on me. I smiled and stroked her hair softly.

"I'm Edward, and this is Carlisle. We found you by the stream. You've been hurt, but we're taking care of you. Carlisle is a doctor."

"So are you," he added with a smile.

"Sort of," I clarified. Bella was still looking at me. "I just graduated from medical school. But Carlisle is one of the best ER physicians in Seattle."

She took a shallow, unsteady breath, finally moving her gaze to him. "Thank you," she whispered.

He took her hand in his. "You're welcome, Bella. How are you feeling?"

She blinked again, her expression one of deep concentration for a few moments. "Um… my ribs are sore." She sounded almost apologetic.

Carlisle nodded. "Two of them are fractured, so it's important that you move as little as possible. We don't want to risk any injury to your lungs."

"Oh… okay," she said weakly.

"You also have a pretty deep cut on your leg," he informed her gently. "You lost quite a bit of blood. You're going to feel weak for some time because of that. I've sutured the wound, and it should be fine, but it's important to keep your leg still."

She gave a tiny nod. "I'm sorry… to have caused you… so much trouble."

"We're just glad we found you and were able to help," I said.

"Where are we?" she asked. Her voice was still hoarse.

"Not far from the stream," Carlisle replied.

"Is it…" She hesitated for a moment, her eyes moving around the tent before finishing, "Safe?"

Carlisle offered her a reassuring smile. "Yes. We're still in the ravine, but we're on higher ground and in a protected area. We'll stay here until the storm clears. Are you warm enough?"

"Yes."

"Aside from your ribs and leg, does anything else hurt?" Carlisle inquired.

She frowned slightly, and when she spoke it sounded like a confession. "I feel… sore."

"Anywhere in particular?" he asked.

She swallowed. "No… just sort of everywhere."

"Do your head or neck hurt?"

"No, not really… no more than anywhere else."

"Okay." He reached for the cuff and stethoscope again. "I'm going to check your blood pressure."

She lay quietly while he wrapped the cuff around her arm. For a few seconds her gaze was fixed on the roof of the tent, but then she looked at me. I smiled, trying to offer her as much moral support as I could. Her eyes lowered, and I realized she was staring at my knee.

"Are you hurt?" she asked quietly.

"I'm okay," I replied.

Her delicate eyebrows drew together; she appeared distressed. "Did… that happen when you… were trying to help… me?"

I shook my head. "I was just careless. It was my own fault."

She blinked again, and I realized that her eyes had filled with tears.

"Hey," I said softly, "it's okay." I took her hand, enveloping it in mine.

"I'm sorry," she whispered with a tiny sniff.

"Bella," Carlisle cautioned gently, "try to stay calm. Edward isn't in any danger."

I gave him a pointed look, silently inquiring about her BP. He replied with a brief nod; he wasn't overly concerned. He checked her pupils with a pen light then listened to her lungs again. She remained quiet while he examined her. I kept her hand in mine, noticing that she curled her slender fingers around my palm as Carlisle performed the necessary tasks.

When he had finished, he told her that she was doing well. _As well as can be expected in these circumstances_ would have been a more apt description, I was sure, but I understood that keeping Bella calm was very important.

"Do you think you can sip a little juice?" he asked her. "I can give you some Advil, too."

"Yes, please," she replied softly.

He took a small pouch of apple juice from his backpack and slid in the straw. He lifted her head while I held the straw to her lips. Carlisle cautioned her to sip slowly, and she complied. He allowed her to have about half of the pouch then gave her the ibuprofen. I watched somewhat anxiously as she took another sip of juice and swallowed the tablet. If she were to choke, she would risk a lung injury. It was important for her to have fluids and find relief from her pain, but caution was critical, too.

As the rain continued to drum against the tent, the air grew colder. I was becoming chilled again. The cold pack on my knee and my bare legs weren't helping. An unwelcome shudder ran through me.

"You're cold," Bella said, her brow furrowing again.

"I'm okay," I assured her quickly, surprised by her perceptiveness. She was in significant physical discomfort, yet she seemed concerned about _me_.

Carlisle checked his watch then removed the cold pack. As he wrapped my knee with an Ace bandage, I tried not to wince. The cold and the ibuprofen had helped some, but the injury was still painful.

Pulling on pants was not an option at the moment, so I covered my legs with my sleeping bag. Bella was wearing one of my flannel shirts, but fortunately I had brought two. I found the second one in my pack and put it on.

Bella watched me then glanced at the fabric covering her arm. "Is this yours?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied. It occurred to me that she had realized that we had undressed her. I attempted to explain, "Your clothing was wet, and you were hypothermic…"

Before I could finish, she said softly, "Thank you."

Carlisle rested his hand against her cheek. "Do you still feel chilled?"

"Just a little," she answered.

I began to move my sleeping bag to cover her, but she shook her head. "No, I'm fine," she protested weakly.

Without thinking, I said, "We can share… if you don't mind."

Carlisle helped me to adjust the sleeping bag so that my legs remained covered and her torso had an extra layer of warmth. A tiny smile graced her lips, and for what felt like the hundredth time she thanked me again.

"We're just glad we can help you," I responded.

Her eyes moved from my face to Carlisle's before she said, "I am, too." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

I saw that her eyes were filling with tears again. "Everything's going to be all right," I tried to reassure her even as I realized how empty those words could seem. Yet I didn't know what else to say to her. I looked to Carlisle for help.

He was watching Bella, reading her expression in a way that I could not. "Sweetheart," he said kindly, "can you tell us what happened—how you got hurt?"

She took a halting breath. I knew that each inhalation was painful, but this seemed like something more. "My father lives in Forks," she said.

I recalled that Forks was a town I'd seen on the map when I was studying the general area of the Olympic Peninsula.

Her voice was soft as she continued, "I was born there… but my parents got divorced… when I was five. I lived with my mother in Phoenix, and I'd visit Forks during the summers until I was in high school. My dad and I… sort of drifted apart when I was a teenager. But last year he got hurt… he's the chief of police…"

With some surprise, Carlisle interjected, "Your father is Charlie Swan?"

Bella's gazed fixed on him. "Yes… do you… know him?"

Carlisle nodded. "He and I were on a search and rescue team together about three years ago. He's an excellent officer and a good man. Is he all right?"

"Yes. But the incident scared me… and I wanted to spend more time with him. I graduated from college in December… and I accepted a job as a teacher at Forks High School and moved out here… in January." She paused, taking several shallow breaths.

"Bella," Carlisle said, "you don't need to tell us right now. Perhaps you should rest for a little while—"

She shook her head. "No… I do need to tell you." There was a hushed urgency to her tone that told us we should allow her to continue.

"In April," she resumed, " a long-term sub… came to the school. We were friendly… but nothing more. He taught science… and he organized a camping trip… for a few of the faculty members…who were interested in learning more about… the ecosystem in this area." She paused again, closing her eyes for several seconds. "When he picked me up for the trip yesterday morning… he told me that the others couldn't come. It was just… the two of us. I should've suspected…" She took another tremulous breath. "I didn't realize…"

"It's okay, Bella," I tried to soothe. "You can tell us later."

"You need to know," she insisted weakly. "We hiked…to a remote area... and set up camp. Last night… he said he knew how I felt… about him... what I wanted him to do to me. But that's not true… I don't. I didn't want him to…"

"Did he hurt you?" Carlisle asked.

"I told him no… and he was angry… He slapped me and pushed me to the ground. But my dad… taught me how to defend myself… and I got away." Now tears were seeping from her eyes. "I was scared… I knew what he was going to do. I could see it in his eyes… So I ran."

"And that's how you ended up out here," Carlisle finished.

"Yes… I ran for a long time… it was dark, and I didn't know where I was… so when it got light and I saw the stream… I began to follow it. I stumbled and fell…"

She was breathing harder now, and her tears continued to flow.

"Just rest now," Carlisle said.

She shook her head. "No… you don't… understand. He's still out there. As I was running away… James was screaming at me… he was enraged and said…he wouldn't let me go… he would find me."

I was livid. How anyone could hurt this sweet young woman was beyond me. Yes, I had seen victims of abuse; I knew that depravity existed. But I had not expected to encounter it out here in the pristine forest.

"I'm so sorry." I clasped Bella's hand again; her skin was cold now. "You're safe here. We won't let anything happen to you."

Carlisle nodded. I could see the fury in his eyes and knew that Esme's experiences were at the forefront of his mind. However, he kept his expression controlled and his tone calm when he spoke. "It's very unlikely that James would be able to find you. We'll keep a close eye on things, just in case, but please don't worry. We'll get you out of here safely; I promise."

Tears glistened against Bella's pallid cheeks. As I brushed my fingertips over the damp trail, I noticed how dark the bruise beside her mouth appeared. Her lip remained swollen, too. I was filled with loathing for the bastard who had hurt her, both by his cruel hand and with his vile plans. He was responsible for all of her injuries.

I touched her lip very gently. "Is there another cold pack?" I asked Carlisle.

"Yes, there are a couple more," Carlisle replied.

Bella lifted her hand to wrap her fingers around my wrist. "It's all right," she said. "I don't need it."

"Are you sure?" Carlisle asked.

She gave a small nod. "It doesn't hurt that much."

"How are your ribs feeling?" he inquired.

"About the same…"

"The Advil should take effect soon," he told her. "It will help."

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "Yes… thank you."

I adjusted the sleeping bag so that it covered her as much as possible. Carlisle rolled up a sweatshirt to make a pillow for her. There weren't many comforts we could offer Bella, but we were both determined to do what we could to ease her distress.

She remained very pale, and after a few minutes her eyelids began to grow heavy. I could see that she was struggling to stay awake. Her body needed rest, but she was fighting it.

"Sleep, Bella," I told her. "We'll be right here when you wake."

Finally she succumbed to slumber. Her expression remained tight, even in sleep, and I knew she was still uncomfortable. There was little else we could do for her.

"How are you feeling?" Carlisle asked me, keeping his voice very low.

"I'm okay. The knee feels a little better."

"Good."

My gaze had not moved from Bella. "How do you think she's doing?"

"She's stable."

"God, what that monster did to her…" I whispered vehemently, my hand hovering over her bruised cheek.

Carlisle nodded somberly. "It's unconscionable."

"What are we going to do?"

"Wait out the storm—"

"No, I mean to keep Bella safe. We have to protect her."

"I agree. But right now our priority is keeping her stable. We need to get some more fluids into her, and I want to check the leg lac again fairly soon. The last thing she needs is an infection. I'd also like to get a cold pack on her ribs to reduce the chance of tissue damage." He ran a hand through his hair. "As far as that bastard James is concerned, the chances of his finding her are slim, at best. My guess is that he's already long gone from the area. He'll probably want to get as far away as possible, especially considering that Bella's father is the chief of police in Forks."

Carlisle's words were very reasonable. It wouldn't make sense for Bella's attacker to come near her again. But Bella's abject fear as she had told us about James and his threat to come after her gnawed at me. James' behavior seemed far from rational.

My gaze moved to her face again. She still appeared slightly distressed, and now I wondered how much of it was due to physical pain and how much stemmed from mental and emotional anguish.

"How long should we let her sleep?" I asked. While she remained in pain, at least she was resting.

"An hour or so, I think. She certainly needs the rest, but she also needs treatment."

I nodded. I watched the movement of Bella's chest, wishing I could hear her breathing. However, the rain drumming on the tent prevented that. Carlisle kept his eyes on her for some time, too, but after a while he moved away to look through his backpack. I realized he was taking out food. He passed a protein bar to me.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," I said.

"Eat it, Edward," he enjoined softly.

I acquiesced, taking small, tasteless bites. I knew I needed the carbohydrates to stave off any lingering physical shock from my injury, as well as to maintain my energy levels. Carlisle ate a bar, too, and took several long draughts from his water bottle. Then he spent some time organizing the medical supplies. I realized he wanted to be prepared for any eventuality, but a part of me wondered if it would be enough.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

I remained beside Bella while she slept. My knee ached dully, but if I stayed still I could avoid deeper pain. I hated that I couldn't be of more assistance to either her or Carlisle. The best I could do for the moment was to monitor her.

I studied Bella's face in slumber. She had graceful, prettily arched eyebrows and long eyelashes. Her injuries had left her wan, but I could tell that her complexion was very fair in the best of circumstances. Her skin was creamy and smooth, aside from the bruises marring her cheek and forehead. Her hair was long—it was matted now—but I imagined that it would be soft and glossy when washed and brushed.

I was still contemplating her features when Bella's brow furrowed deeply and her lips parted. Her eyes remained closed, but she began whimpering.

"Carlisle!" I said urgently.

He turned toward Bella. "What is it?"

"I think she's in distress."

He pressed his fingers gently against her neck. Her head jerked, and she cried out, "No! Please… don't!"

Her eyes were still shut tightly. I realized she was having a nightmare.

"She's dreaming," I said quickly, then I leaned closer to her, trying to calm her with soothing words. "Sshh, Bella, it's all right. You're safe."

She lifted her hand. She had felt Carlisle's touch at her throat and was attempting to push him away. "No, no," she repeated. She was beginning to breathe heavily.

"We need to wake her," Carlisle said.

"Bella." I spoke her name firmly. "Wake up, Bella. It's okay. It's only a dream."

She blinked rapidly then gasped. A tiny exhalation of "Oh!" left her as her eyes searched the dim interior of the tent. For a few moments it seemed that she didn't recognize Carlisle and me, but then her features relaxed a little.

"You're with Carlisle and me. We're still in the tent," I said, stroking her cheek lightly, then I repeated, "You're safe."

She gave a small nod, beginning to calm. However, her breathing remained somewhat labored. Carlisle had noticed, of course, and had reached for the stethoscope.

"I need to listen to your lungs, sweetheart," he told her in a gentle voice. "Is that all right?"

She nodded again, and I took her hand, remembering that she had seemed to find some comfort in that the last time he examined her. He unfastened several of the buttons on her shirt then slipped the stethoscope inside. I kept my eyes on her face, but I knew he was listening to the apices and middle and lower lung fields and would check laterally and anteriorly. I helped her shift slightly onto her side so that he could listen posteriorly, as well.

When he was finished, he offered her a thin smile, saying, "Breath sounds are good, but it's important for you to do some breathing exercises every couple of hours. They'll help prevent any issues with your lungs."

The thought of her developing pneumonia, or worse yet, a pneumothorax, terrified me. I added, "We'll show you what to do."

"Okay," she replied.

"How's your pain?" Carlisle asked her, retrieving the juice pouch she'd begun earlier.

"It's a little better?" she answered hesitantly.

He patted her hand. "I know that moving didn't help. Let's wait a bit before we try anything else. Have some more juice."

She drank slowly but finished the pouch. After she rested for a few minutes, we both assisted her in sitting up. Carlisle rolled the top part of the sleeping bag into a soft cylinder then placed it over the injured ribs.

"Hold this here," he instructed her. "It will make things a little easier."

She moved her arm to the make-shift pillow. I took her free hand in mine while Carlisle demonstrated the type of breaths she needed to take. I knew it would be painful for her to complete the deep inhalations, but it was a necessary evil. Bella managed several breaths before her eyes filled with tears.

"Okay, that was very good," Carlisle complimented. "Now I want you to cough, just a little, not too hard."

She complied, blinking at the tears. She gripped my hand tightly. My own chest ached, watching her as she struggled against the discomfort. But she didn't complain. Her expression, although clearly pained, was determined.

"Good, Bella, very good," Carlisle repeated. "That's all for now. Let's put a cold pack over your ribs for a little while. It'll help with the pain."

I saw the small shudder that ran through her, but she didn't offer any protest. Instead, she thanked him for all he was doing.

"Is it all right if I move a little closer to you?" I asked. "Shared body heat, you know," I added by way of explanation.

"Oh yes," she said, "that would be nice… if you don't mind?"

"Not at all," I replied quite sincerely.

Carlisle set the cold pack over her injured ribs then tucked the sleeping bags snugly around her and me. Bella's hand found mine again, and I felt her cool fingers slip through mine.

I knew she was chilled, and tentatively I touched her leg with mine. She didn't flinch, so I pressed my skin to hers. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

"Would you tell me about yourselves?" she asked in her soft voice.

I understood that she needed a distraction. Her eyes sought Carlisle first. With a warm smile, he said, "My name is Carlisle Cullen. I've lived in the Seattle area for about ten years. I'm married. My wife is named Esme…" He continued, his voice light and calm.

After he had given her the basics about himself, she looked at me.

"I'm Edward Masen," I said. "I graduated from medical school—" I paused and pretended to glance at my watch, "about five minutes ago."

"Worst graduation ceremony ever," she said with a little, ironic grin.

Delighted by her humor, even in such unpleasant circumstances, I continued, "Carlisle was—is—my mentor. He's taught me so much about medicine, and not just the technical parts." I gave him a grateful look then returned my attention to Bella. "I hope that someday I can be half as good a physician as he is."

"You will be," she said softly, and in my peripheral vision I saw Carlisle nod.

"Thank you. I've been fortunate enough to be matched with his program for my residency."

"Mmm," she murmured, "double trouble."

"What?" I asked, unsure what she meant.

For the first time since I'd found her, I saw a hint of color in her cheeks. "The two of you," she explained, and I suddenly realized that she was blushing. "You're both gorgeous." She pressed her lips together. "Oh God… I said that out loud!" she squeaked.

Carlisle chuckled, while I was slightly agape. It probably wasn't the best thing to say, but I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head: "You thought Carlisle was an angel when you first woke."

She shook her head, her cheeks still beautifully pink. "Not just Carlisle; you, too."

Now I was the one who was blushing. At least my heated skin would bring some more warmth to Bella.

Carlisle was still smiling in amusement when he told Bella that he wanted to check her leg. He had chosen a good time; she was much more relaxed and in less pain than she had been earlier. He was very gentle as he removed the bandage, inspected, cleaned, and re-dressed the wound.

"It looks good," he reported.

"Thank you," she said. "For everything." She yawned, flushing slightly again.

"Why don't you try to sleep," Carlisle said. "You might be more comfortable on your left side. I know that sounds a little strange, but you'll actually be able to breathe with less pain. We'll make the nicest mattress we can." He winked and gave her his most charming smile.

I could see that she was at ease now. He had such a marvelous bedside manner, even in the middle of the wilderness. He had already gathered up our softest items of clothing, including the sweatshirt he had been wearing. He folded the items and tucked them into the sleeping bag, then he helped her to roll over. She gasped quietly at first, but after a minute she seemed more comfortable.

"Oh, that is better," she began. "Th—"

"You're very welcome," Carlisle said quickly, knowing precisely what she was about to say.

"Edward," she said in a tentative tone. "Can you… um, would you mind… staying here with me… for a little while longer?"

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured her, then added, "and there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

* * *

Bella fell asleep fairly quickly. The interior of the tent was very dim now; night was falling. The rain continued, but it wasn't quite as heavy. Lying beside Bella, still and quiet, torpor began creeping through me. I was tired, and sleep was tugging at me. I permitted my eyes to close for a few moments of rest.

When I opened them again, it was pitch dark. I felt disoriented. I was lying on my side, my injured knee slightly elevated on something soft. I was cozy, covered with my sleeping bag. I could still hear rain pattering steadily on the tent, and there was something warm resting against the length of my body and beneath my arm.

With a slight start, I realized that I was turned toward Bella, cuddled up to her with my arm wrapped around her. Was I hurting her? No, she remained on her left side, and when I shifted my arm I felt the softness of her breasts. Quickly I started to move my arm away, but as I lifted it, she began to stir.

I didn't want to wake her, so I stilled. She settled back into deep slumber quickly. However, I was wide awake now. I rested my hand softly over Bella's heart, counting the beats and noting her respirations. Thankfully, I found nothing worrisome in my little evaluation.

I wondered what time it was. Although I couldn't see anything, I felt certain that Carlisle must be sleeping, too. If he were awake, he would surely have the lantern on, even if it were only on the dimmest setting.

Curious to find out the time, I shifted my arm so that it was still touching Bella but I could see my watch. It was 3:10 in the morning. Bella would need to do her breathing exercises again, but I supposed that could wait a little longer. She was sleeping soundly, and that was important, too. She deserved a few hours of peace.

For just a moment I felt a twinge of fear. I needed to be certain the tent was secure and safe. I touched the little button on my watch that illuminated the face. It provided just enough light for me to see the interior of the tent. The supplies remained where we had left them, and the door was securely zipped. Lifting my head, I saw that Carlisle was stretched out on Bella's other side, facing away from her. All three of us were covered by my open sleeping bag. Carlisle had taken care of all of us before he finally allowed himself to sleep.

Not for the first time, I was extremely grateful for his presence. I lowered my head, realizing that it had been resting on a rolled up tee shirt. A small smile of gratitude tugged at my lips.

I lay awake for a long time. My knee ached, but the pain was bearable. After a time, I found myself counting Bella's inhalations and exhalations, but it was not in a clinical sense. Her soft breathing comforted me. Eventually I drifted off to sleep once more.

* * *

When I woke, gray light was seeping into the tent. I glanced at my watch to find that it was just after six o'clock. Bella remained beside me, but she was lying on her back. My arm was no longer around her. For some reason I was disappointed that I hadn't felt her move.

I couldn't see her face; she had her head turned the other way. I pushed up onto my elbows, surprised to see that Carlisle had moved. He was nowhere in sight. Glancing down at Bella, I saw that her eyes were open and she was watching the entrance of the tent.

"Bella," I said softly, not wanting to startle her.

She jerked slightly and turned her head to me. Her expression was apprehensive.

"Where's Carlisle?" I asked.

"He went to try the phone… and get a couple of things," she replied. Her voice was a little husky.

I nodded. "How long has he been gone?"

"Maybe twenty minutes?"

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," I reassured her. But I felt a twinge of worry, too.

I sat up, moving my leg gingerly so that I could assess my knee. It was painful, and when I pulled back the sleeping bag I saw that it remained quite swollen. I knew it was unreasonable to expect that it would have improved drastically overnight, but I had harbored a shred of hope that the injury was less serious than Carlisle had thought. A bottle of water and packet of ibuprofen were easily within reach. I swallowed two tablets quickly.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Bella. The little hints of color I had seen in her face last night had vanished; she was extremely pale now.

"About the same," she said.

"Did Carlisle check your breathing?"

She nodded. "He said I'm doing all right."

I tried to smile, but it felt rather wooden. "That's good."

We were both quiet for a minute. I focused my senses on the sounds outside the tent, listening intently. I could hear the water rushing in the stream, and leaves rustled in the nearby trees. The previous morning, birds had been singing as soon as the sun rose, but I heard no birdsong now. Had something frightened them away?

I shifted around, pulling myself up on my good knee, and moved toward the entrance. I needed to see what was outside, and hopefully find out where Carlisle was.

"I'm just going to step out for a minute," I told Bella, unzipping the flap.

"Edward," she importuned, "be careful."

"I will."

I crawled through the opening, my eyes scanning the area quickly then more systematically. The stream had risen considerably; Carlisle had been wise to set up camp on higher ground. I stood, keeping my weight on my left leg. I looked all around but did not see Carlisle.

Now that I was standing, my bladder decided to announce its fullness. With a muttered curse, I searched for something to use as a cane. Propriety dictated that I go at least a short distance from the tent to heed the call of nature.

A fairly thick stick lay a few yards away. I managed to limp over to it, frustrated and disappointed that basic movement proved such a challenge. I'd never envied patients who used crutches, but at the moment I would have been very glad for a pair.

"Bella," I called out softly, "I'm still out here. I'm going to go just a few yards so that I can… get a better view."

If she replied, I couldn't hear her. At least she wouldn't be concerned that I hadn't returned immediately. I hobbled toward a nearby bush and completed my little task as quickly as I could.

I had just finished when I heard something moving above me. A shower of pebbles rained down a few yards away. I stilled, looking up at the edge of the ravine. From my position, however, I couldn't see the beyond the ledge.

"Carlisle?" I called out softly. "Is that you?"

There was heavy shuffling on the ledge, and I heard a distinctly angry grunt. That was not a sound Carlisle would make. And if it were another hiker, surely he or she would offer a friendly greeting. The noise above was anything but friendly.

My hand gripped the stick. It wasn't much, but it was the only weapon I had at the moment. Heart hammering, I backed up a few paces, craning my neck in an attempt to see who stood above me.

"Hello?" I tried to speak in a firm voice. "Who's there?"

A few more pebbles fell, and there was a squish of mud as feet trod closer to the ledge. Another fractious huff accompanied the movements. Whoever was up there was not pleased. My first thought was of that bastard, James. Bella feared his determination. Was it possible he had succeeded in tracking her?

* * *

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

I began to lift the stick, frantically thinking about how I could defend myself and keep Bella safe. Panic squeezed at my chest when I realized the significance of Carlisle's absence; had that bastard done something to him, too?

With another low snort, a face appeared above me. I gasped aloud, falling backward to land heavily on my backside. A large black bear peered down at me, snuffling and shaking his huge, shaggy head.

A muttered curse escaped me, but aside from that I remained utterly still. The bear eyed me warily for several very long seconds, then he gave another snort and disappeared from view. I heard his heavy paws and the squelch of mud as he shambled away.

"Edward!" Carlisle's voice called out.

I twisted my head to the source, seeing him about twenty yards away. He hurried toward me. My heart was still beating fast when he reached me, and I was sure I had paled. Pointing upward, I said, "There was a bear."

He nodded. "I saw it. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

He offered me his hand, which I took gratefully. He helped me to get up, watching my injured leg as I rose.

"Where the hell were you?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

He blinked in surprise. "I was trying to get a signal. I walked to an area where the ravine isn't as steep, then I climbed up to the top."

"Oh… Any luck?"

He shook his head. "No."

Another curse escaped me. I ran a hand through my hair. "Sorry. We didn't know where you were, and when I heard something up there," I gestured toward the ledge, "I didn't know who it was…I thought…"

He nodded in understanding. "I didn't see any signs of anyone else being out here. I really doubt James is even in the state anymore."

"Of course; you're probably right." I shifted uncomfortably. My knee had begun to throb in earnest. "So what do we do now? How are we going to get Bella out of here?"

"The only way would be to carry her, preferably on a litter, but even that would be risky. Any jostling movements could cause lung damage, and treating a pneumothorax out here is not something we want to attempt."

"The biggest issue is getting her up," I said, lifting my gaze to the ledge again.

"Yes, that's a major concern. But even if we did… Edward, with your knee you can't carry a litter."

I didn't want to accept that as true. I shook my head. "I can take more Aleve, and you can make a brace for me. I'm sure I can manage."

"Even if you could, you shouldn't."

I opened my mouth to object, but he held up a hand to stop me.

"Aside from the severe damage you would likely do to your knee," he continued, "we can't guarantee you'd be steady on your feet. In point of fact, it's highly unlikely that you'd manage to get more than a short way before you'd falter. What would happen to Bella if you dropped your end of the litter?"

I hated that he was right but couldn't deny it. I shook my head. "Okay. So what are our other options? Can you carry her?"

"Not without knowing where I'm going. And at this moment, I don't know where the hell we are." Frustration colored his tone. "Following the stream will help, but we have no idea how far in we are. Bella is safer remaining here for the time being."

"So what are you thinking?"

"At some point, she'll be missed, as will we." A flicker of pain crossed his expression, and I knew he was thinking of Esme. "We don't know when Bella was expected back, but if her trip was intended to be fairly short, I'm sure her father will organize a search quickly when she doesn't return as planned."

"Okay, so waiting for help is one option, but we don't know how long that could take."

"Let's find out what the duration of Bella's trip was supposed to be."

"And if it was scheduled for more than a couple of days?"

"I'll go for help. If I follow the stream, it'll take me back to the Queets River eventually. Once I find it, I'll have my bearings, if not before then. But it could take me awhile… a day, possibly more."

That would leave me to take care of Bella. The thought frightened me on many levels. I was frustrated by the limitations my injury placed on my mobility. I was also worried about Bella's medical needs. She was in much more experienced hands with Carlisle here.

My expression must have shown my apprehension, because Carlisle placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, saying, "We need to know how long Bella's trip was supposed to be. We won't make any decisions until we have that information, okay?"

I gave a nod of acceptance, and he helped me back to the tent. We found Bella awake and clearly relieved at our return. Prior to questioning her, Carlisle had her do her breathing exercises, and he checked her leg. Once these necessary tasks were finished, he asked her about her trip.

"It was planned for five nights," she told us.

Carlisle and I exchanged a worried glance. She wasn't expected back for three more days.

"Which area did you leave from?" he inquired.

"Staircase Ranger Station," she said.

He nodded, obviously familiar with this landmark. "And about how far did you hike the first day?"

"Maybe five miles?"

I knew that Carlisle was doing some mental calculations, as was I. Bella had run from their camp during the night, but in the dark it was unlikely she had covered more than a few miles.

"Do you know about what time of day it was when you reached this area?" he asked.

"I'm not sure…" Her eyebrows drew together, and I could see her agitation building as she recalled the frightening events that had led her here.

I clasped her hand gently, saying, "It's okay, Bella. If you can't remember, that's fine."

She shook her head, and with quiet determination said, "No… I just need to think."

"Take your time," Carlisle told her calmly.

"When the sun came up," she began, her voice hushed, "I was deep in the woods. I had no idea where I was… "

I squeezed her hand softly, hoping I could convey my resolve to keep her safe.

She took a shaky breath then exhaled slowly. "I didn't have my phone or anything else—I should have grabbed my pack, I guess, but James' expression and his voice…they were deadly. I was so scared. "

"That's perfectly understandable," Carlisle assured her.

"Fight or flight is a natural human response," I added.

She nodded. "I suppose so. Once the sun rose, I could at least see, and that helped a little. But I still didn't know where I was or how to get back to the ranger station. I knew if I traveled east I'd eventually reach the edge of the park, so I started walking. I'd gone a mile or two, I guess, when I saw the stream. I knew I needed water, so I tried to climb down… but I fell." Her eyes moved from Carlisle's face to mine. "If you hadn't found me…"

"Well, we did," Carlisle said with a smile. "And we're going make sure you get back to your father safely." His gaze flicked to his backpack, and I knew that he had decided he would go for help as soon as possible.

It was the most rational decision, but it left me overwhelmed with apprehension. My biggest concern was for Bella, of course, and my ability to take care of her. But I was also worried for Carlisle. I knew he was an experienced hiker, but unexpected hazards could still present grave difficulties. Even with care, he could be injured, and there was a very real possibility that he could face a bear or other dangerous wildlife. He had nothing with which to protect himself; he abhorred guns and would never consider carrying one.

"When are you leaving?" I asked him.

Bella's eyes widened. "Carlisle?" she questioned.

He offered her another smile. "I'm going to find help."

"Oh—I'm sorry," Bella said. She looked stricken.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he replied. "I'm just glad that Edward and I ended up here where we could help you."

"Yes," I murmured in agreement.

Bella and I remained quiet while Carlisle prepared his pack. I knew that all of our thoughts were focused on his journey. He took the time to get a good supply of water for us, to prepare an area for a fire, and to gather fuel. All the wood was still wet, but he and I were hopeful that it would be dry enough by nightfall to ignite. He felt it was important that we have a fire to help the rescue team find us as quickly as possible, particularly if he contacted the ranger after sunset.

Carlisle worked efficiently and was prepared to depart by 9:00. He checked Bella's breathing again, then he spent another minute ensuring that the medical supplies were organized. He had packed some food for himself but left the majority of it for Bella and me. He asked if there was anything else either of us might need. Neither Bella nor I could think of anything, aside from his safe return with a rescue team.

Carlisle knelt at Bella's side one more time, placing his hand against her cheek. "I want you to stay calm and relaxed, sweetheart," he told her. "Edward will take good care of you, and you'll be in a warm bed by tomorrow. You're going to be just fine."

She nodded, blinking at tears. "I don't even have the words… to express how grateful I am…"

He kissed her forehead. "No words are needed."

"Be safe," she rasped as he turned toward to entrance.

He gave her a nod and a smile, and then he tilted his head toward me. He wanted to speak with me alone.

"I'll be right back," I told Bella.

Carlisle helped me out of the tent. With the dose of ibuprofen I'd taken upon waking, my knee was feeling marginally better, but I was far from mobile. Once outside, he gave me a sturdy, slightly curved stick he'd found; it was better suited to work as a cane than the one I'd grabbed earlier.

"Let's talk over here," he said softly, looping my arm over his shoulders so that he could support me.

We walked about five yards from the tent, just far enough to be out of earshot for Bella.

I gave Carlisle a concerned, questioning look.

He glanced back at the tent before addressing me. "You need to continue with the ibuprofen every six hours—800 mg. And keep the knee elevated whenever you can."

I nodded; I already knew this.

"Be sure Bella does her breathing exercises every three to four hours. She can have acetaminophen as needed, too."

"Right. What else?"

He sighed. "I'm really hoping to reach the ranger station before nightfall, or get to an area where I can get cell reception. But honestly, I have no idea where we are. If I don't have a good sense of my location by sunset, I'll stop and make camp—I can't risk continuing on in the dark and losing my trail."

I understood that he had to keep track of where he'd come from so that he could direct the rescuers back here.

"There's a chance that I won't be able to get help to you until tomorrow or the next day. I'm going to move as quickly as I can—"

"But safely," I cautioned him.

"Of course. I'm not planning on taking any risks."

"Don't, Carlisle."

"I won't. But Edward, I need to warn you… When I listened to Bella's lungs a little while ago I thought I heard the beginning of rales."

"Pneumonia?" I questioned immediately.

"Possibly. You'll need to keep a close eye on her and listen to her lungs again in a few hours. She was lying in the stream when we found her. It's fairly likely that she aspirated some water."

"Damn it," I growled lowly. "That's the last thing she needs with fractured ribs."

"I know, and I intend to do everything I can to get her out of here before it becomes an issue." He placed a hand upon my shoulder, trying to mitigate my agitation. "You need to remain calm; that's the best thing you can do for her. Keep her comfortable and as relaxed as possible."

I took a deep breath and released it slowly; rationality was critical now. Feeling slightly less panicked, I said, "I'll do whatever I can for her."

"I know you will. I have absolute confidence in you, Edward. You've had good training and you have excellent skills. Don't forget that."

I nodded, appreciating his belief in me despite my own doubts. I pulled him into an embrace, murmuring, "Thank you."

A few moments later he lifted his pack. "I'll see you soon," he said, his tone steady and sure.

I repeated Bella's parting words because there was really nothing else to say: "Be safe."

"Definitely."

I watched as he walked away. He turned once to wave. I lifted my hand in farewell then let it drop to my side as he disappeared from view.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

After Carlisle's departure I returned to the tent. I needed to keep focused, and finding specific tasks helped me to suppress my worries temporarily. The first task I assigned myself was preparing breakfast.

I had little appetite; anxiety always had that effect on me. However, I knew it was crucial to maintain my energy, as well as my equanimity, while I was caring for Bella. She needed to eat, too, but it was important to provide her with food that posed little risk for choking and would be easy for her system to digest.

Carlisle had placed all the food in several large, resealable bags, which allowed me to see all the items easily while preventing any enticing aromas from escaping and attracting bears. I selected an orange, several fig bars, and a juice pack, offering the latter to Bella. I drank water, since our supply of juice was limited. There was tea and instant coffee, but those would have to wait until I could light the fire. We also had quick-cooking rice and cups of dehydrated soup. I thought I might attempt a hot meal for dinner—and then I felt a twinge of panic again as I wondered how many meals I would need to prepare before Carlisle returned with help.

I pushed those ruminations aside and tried to focus on Bella. She sipped the juice slowly and took a small bite of the fig bar. She seemed to be forcing herself to eat.

"You aren't hungry?" I asked. "If that doesn't taste good to you, I can find something else—"

"No, it's fine," she replied softly. "I don't have much of an appetite, I guess."

"I know it's painful, but please try to eat at least a little."

She nodded. "You too."

I glanced down at the fig bar in my hand. I had yet to bite into it. I broke off a piece and put it in my mouth. It tasted dry and unappealing, but I forced myself to chew and swallow it. The orange held slightly more appeal, and when I offered Bella a section, she took it fairly readily.

"Tastes good," she said.

"It does," I agreed. "I can make some soup later. How does that sound?"

"Nice, thank you."

When she accepted another piece of the orange, I smiled, sincerely pleased to see her eating. "So, you like oranges. Any other favorite fruits?"

"I really like all kinds," she replied. "Salads, too, especially spinach."

This sparked a distant memory for me. "My mother used to make a spinach salad with oranges," I said. "It was very good."

"I've made that, too. Does she use mandarin oranges?"

"I don't remember what kind she used…She didn't make it very often, but when she did she'd put extra oranges on mine."

"She sounds like a great mom."

"Yes, she was."

Suddenly I felt Bella's hand touch mine. "Oh, I'm sorry Edward."

"She always did little things like that; she had this wonderful way of making me feel special and letting me know how much she loved me." I paused. My words surprised me. I rarely spoke about my parents, but I felt no hesitation sharing this memory with Bella.

"How long has she been gone?" Bella asked gently. "Unless you don't want to talk about it."

"No, it's all right." And it really was. "I lost both of my parents in a car accident when I was seventeen."

Her fingers curled around my hand. "I can't even imagine how terrible that must have been."

"It was," I admitted, my throat feeling tight. Her thumb moved softly over my palm. It was such a light touch, yet in it I found sincere sympathy and support. I continued, because this was the first time I had ever felt comfortable remembering that awful period. The memories were dreadful, of course, but I felt no resistance, no hesitation, in sharing them. Indeed, simply by admitting that the experience had been horrible a tiny bit of the pain I had restrained for seven years seemed to break free and dissipate.

Bella's gaze was upon me, her expression open and empathetic. Yet she was injured and possibly ill. It was wrong for me to add to her burden in any way.

I had been silent for several long seconds before she spoke again. "Were you still in high school?"

I nodded. "Yes. I was a senior; it was just before the end of the first quarter."

I felt her squeeze my hand gently once more.

"That's when I met Carlisle," I continued. In retrospect, that night in the ER had altered the entire course of my life. For some reason, it seemed important to share this with Bella. "He had just begun his residency—he had assisted in the trauma rooms when my parents were brought in—and he saw me afterward, after the attending had told me what happened. I was sitting alone, and he sat down beside me. He didn't say much… I suppose there's really not much anyone _can _say in a situation like that… but his presence brought me comfort. There was something about him, a true desire to help others and ease their pain, that touched me deeply."

"He's the reason you went into medicine," she concluded softly.

"Yes. I threw myself into my studies immediately. I needed a purpose, something to work toward…"

"Something within your control," she finished gently.

Astonished by her perspicacity, I acknowledged her with a nod.

"I think," she said, her gaze upon me intent, "that tragedy splits our lives apart, but some people find a different direction, a new path that they would never have considered before. And sometimes that path leads to something positive, something ultimately good."

"You almost lost your father."

She nodded. "I know it's not even close to what you went through, but, like you, it changed the course of my life. It brought me _here_."

Surely she meant to the Olympic Peninsula, to the town of Forks…But when I looked into her eyes, I sensed a deeper meaning. I lifted her hand and pressed my lips softly over her knuckles.

A tiny sigh escaped her. At first I perceived it as an indicator of pain, but Bella's expression was serene. Keeping her hand in mine, I slid my arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me, her cheek against my chest. She would need to do her breathing exercises soon, but she deserved a little time to feel calm and content. She had helped me to realize that we both did.

* * *

Bella did not complain as she performed the breathing exercises, but I could see the pain in her expression. By the time she was finished, she was pallid and clammy. Her small hand gripped mine weakly, and I could feel the coolness of her skin.

"Okay," I tried to soothe once she was done. "Good job."

She offered me a wan smile in response even as she blinked back tears. Keeping her partially upright, I helped her to settle back against the make-shift pillows then tucked the sleeping bag around her.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Why don't you try to sleep for a little while," I suggested. She looked exhausted.

I was surprised when she shook her head. "I'm not sleepy."

"No?"

"No—tired, but not sleepy."

I understood and gave her a nod. "Is there anything I can get you? Some water or juice?"

"No, thank you." Her soft, brown eyes fixed upon me with gentle intensity. "But would you…" She took a shallow breath. "Would you tell me something else about yourself?"

I smiled. "What would you like to know?"

"Anything you want to tell me." Her pale cheeks colored a bit as she added, "I like hearing your voice. It's very nice."

This was news to me. "Is it?"

"Yes…soft and very smooth."

Now I felt my own face flushing. "No one's ever told me that before."

"Hmm." A little smile quirked at her lips.

"So, um," I began. I felt as though I should be self-conscious, but I wasn't. Bella's expression was patient and encouraging as she waited for me to speak again. Finally I said, "I'm an only child."

"Yes? I am, too. That's something we have in common."

For some reason, this pleased me. "It is. I never really minded. Did you?"

"No. It was the only thing I knew."

"Same for me. It didn't occur to me to miss having siblings. I was always good at entertaining myself with books or music."

"What kind of books did you read?"

"The classics, mostly. Dickens was always a favorite of mine."

"I like Dickens, but I prefer Jane Austen and the Brontes."

An image of Bella curled up on a window seat, a well-worn book in her hands, filled my mind. She would enjoy something romantic, of course, but she would find the romance most satisfying if its path were arduous. I took a guess and said, with an arch of my eyebrow, "_Wuthering Heights_?"

Bella grinned in delight. "How did you know? It's my favorite."

"I had a feeling."

Still smiling, she reached for my hand. "Tell me about your music. You must play an instrument…" She studied my fingers for a few moments. "Piano?"

I chuckled. "Did you have a feeling, too?"

"Just a lucky guess. Do you still play?"

"I haven't in a long time, not since-" I swallowed. "Not since my parents died."

"Did you take lessons as a child?"

Bella had such a natural way of engaging me in conversation; I felt no reticence when telling her about things I had kept out of my mind for a very long time. "Yes," I replied. "I began when I was six and continued until I was sixteen."

"Wow, you must be very good."

I shrugged lightly. "I'm sure I'm extremely rusty now. But when I was a young teen I was pretty serious about it. My mother sometimes had to stop me from practicing because I'd get so involved in a piece that I'd forget about everything else."

"Who are your favorite composers?"

Strains of melodies flowed through my mind. The memories were pleasant, not painful as they once had been. "Debussy," I said, "and Tchaikovsky were my favorites to play."

"'Claire de Lune,'" Bella said rather dreamily.

"You know it?"

She nodded. "My mom has pretty eclectic taste, and she tends to move from one genre to the next fairly quickly, but 'Claire de Lune' was something she always came back to. It's such a beautiful piece."

"It is." I could easily envision Bella listening to the dulcet strains, book in her hand and eyes closed. It was a lovely image. "Aside from Debussy, what type of music do you like?" I asked.

"Almost anything but country or rap," she replied.

"I'm with you there. Do you have a favorite song?"

"Not really…"

"No special song shared by you and your boyfriend?"

She blushed again. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh—I didn't mean to be intrusive." Now I was as embarrassed as she was. "I guess I just assumed … I mean, you're so kind and intelligent and sweet."

"I've never dated much," she said softly, almost hesitantly. "I got a full scholarship for college, so I was pretty focused on my studies. I went out a few times, but the guys seemed like they were still in high school. I wasn't interested in attending frat parties or hanging out in bars."

I nodded in understanding. "I get that."

"So you aren't dating anyone?"

"No. I got through my undergrad in two-and-a-half years, so there was literally no time for dating then. And med school is pretty all-consuming. That's not to say that students didn't date—one of my classmates even got engaged last year—but my priority was school. That's another thing we have in common."

"I suppose so, in a way. I mean I didn't attempt anything as rigorous as medical school… I didn't even go to grad school."

Something in her tone told me that she had intended to continue her education at the post-graduate level. "Were you planning to?"

"Yes. I'd been accepted into a really amazing Master's program at Northwestern. I was going to specialize in learning disabilities. But then my dad got hurt, and I knew that Washington was where I needed to be, at least for now."

"You should consider that Master's, Bella. You'd be wonderful with special needs students."

"Thank you for saying that."

"I mean it."

Her demeanor changed quickly; now she appeared grave.

"Bella?" I questioned. "What is it?" Was she in significant pain?

"I just…" She exhaled slowly, looking down. "Thinking about the future frightens me."

"And why is that?" I asked gently.

"What if something happens to Carlisle? How long can we stay out here by ourselves?"

I cupped her cheek softly with my hand. "Carlisle is an excellent and experienced hiker; he'll make it to the ranger station safely, probably by tonight or tomorrow at the latest. Once he does, he'll get help quickly. Until then, we have everything we need: food, water, shelter, and sleeping bags for warmth."

I had hoped my words would assuage her fear, but when I felt a teardrop brush my thumb I knew I had failed to help her.

"Really, Bella, it's going to be all right."

She lifted her eyes to look at me. Despite the tears, her gaze seemed slightly dull. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, as she said, "I don't know."

"What's worrying you?"

She hesitated for a few moments before answering. "James might still be out there."

Instinctively my eyes flicked to the entrance of the tent, then I looked back at her. "No, he's not. He's probably in another state by now. He knows your father is the chief of police; there's no way he'd stick around and risk being apprehended."

My words seemed to comfort her somewhat. Her expression softened slightly. I stroked her cheek with my fingertips. She was no longer cool; her skin felt warm now. I hoped it was just a reaction to the surge of fear she had experienced.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, trying to keep the apprehension from my tone.

She offered me a wan smile. I hadn't known Bella for long, but I already knew that she was hesitant to complain or to express her discomfort.

"I'm okay," she said after a few moments. "How is your knee?"

While her question was probably an attempt to deflect my attention from her own condition, her tone conveyed true concern, as well. "Not too bad," I replied.

Perhaps I was downplaying my discomfort slightly, but it was important that Bella trust that I would take care of her. While I was not particularly mobile, I was not ill, and my injury posed no threat to my life.

Bella's gaze was losing focus. Her body needed sleep, but she had resisted it before. Almost without realizing it, I began to hum. The melody began as something remembered from years ago, but soon it seemed to change, to become a new, gentle tune that flowed through my mind.

"That's… so pretty," Bella sighed sleepily.

I smiled, keeping the tune flowing quietly, and soon her features relaxed as she slipped into deep slumber. I continued humming for a long time.

* * *

Bella slept for several hours. I watched her carefully, observing her for any signs of illness. When she shivered, I tucked the sleeping bag around her more securely, wondering if her chill was the beginning of a fever. When her cheeks looked slightly flushed, my concern intensified. She became restless, appearing uncomfortable, shortly before waking. Her eyes opened, and she blinked at me blearily.

"Hey," I said softly. "How are you feeling?"

For a moment she seemed confused, then her eyes widened in fear. Her gaze darted around the tent.

"It's okay, Bella," I soothed. "You're safe."

She exhaled slowly. "Edward."

With a smile, I nodded. "Yes. You've been sleeping."

"I was dreaming," she murmured. Her brow furrowed, and I realized her dreams had been disturbing. Perhaps that explained her flushed cheeks and apparent discomfort.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" I offered.

She shook her head. "I can't really remember… " She coughed lightly, wincing at the action.

I reached for a water bottle. "Have some of this."

I helped her to sit up fully, watching as she took several tiny sips, swallowing them slowly. By the time she had finished, she was very pale, and when I touched her cheek I found it clammy.

"How much pain are you in?" I asked.

"It's not too bad," she replied, looking down as she spoke.

I gave her another dose of Tylenol. My professional instincts were prickling; I needed to listen to her lungs. However, I didn't want to alarm her. Helping Bella to remain calm was an important part of her care. If she realized that I was checking for signs of pneumonia, her anxiety would likely spike. Fortunately, I had routine on my side. Carlisle always listened to her lungs after she did her breathing exercises, and it was time for another round.

Bella struggled this time, more so than on previous occasions. I tried to keep my words and expression positive, but I grew more concerned with each pained cough she produced. When she finished the arduous task, I offered her an encouraging smile then reached for the stethoscope.

She sat quietly while I assessed her lungs. I listened intently to each inhalation and exhalation, dismayed by what I heard. I could distinguish late inspiratory rales. I recognized the distinctive little clicks that resembled the crumpling of cellophane. Carlisle had been correct in his suspicion that she was developing pneumonia.

I set aside the instrument and helped Bella to settle against the pillows again, semi upright. She wanted to lie on her side again, but I knew it was important that she avoid a supine position if possible. I told her that it would be easier for her to breathe deeply if she were sitting up, at least for a little while. She was exhausted from the exercises and nascent illness, but she accepted my recommendation without complaint. I did what I could to make her comfortable, wishing there were more options available to me. Aside from keeping her warm and hydrated, there was little I could do.

Bella dozed for about an hour. She did not sleep deeply, almost rousing several times. I hummed softly whenever she appeared most agitated, and this seemed to soothe her somewhat.

When she woke fully, I gave her some water, noticing that a slight chill shook her as she drank.

"Are you cold?" I asked.

"A little," she admitted.

"Let me check the firewood. If I can get a fire going, we can have some hot tea."

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "That would be nice."

I crawled through the tent flap then hobbled toward the fire pit Carlisle had prepared. It was late afternoon now, but the sun still shone. The day had been relatively warm and bright, and I was pleased to find that the kindling was dry. The larger pieces beneath it remained damp, but I was hopeful that they would ignite eventually.

I lit the twigs, stepping back at the small burst of flame. I returned to the tent, reporting the small bit of good news to Bella as I retrieved a pan and a bottle of water. By the time the water had heated, a few of the bigger branches were smoldering. I hoped that we would have a good fire by nightfall.

Bella's smile was genuine when I brought the cup of tea to her. She thanked me, wrapping her hands around the warm metal. She took a tentative sip then another. A hint of rosiness suffused her pale cheeks. I felt infinitely grateful that I could bring this small measure of comfort to her.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon in quiet conversation. As daylight began to fade, I slipped from the tent again to check the fire. I added some more wood from the pile Carlisle had left, pleased by the steady glow and surrounding warmth. I heated soup for dinner. Bella's appetite was lacking, but she managed a few spoonfuls. I suspected she was feeling worse, but she didn't complain.

It was dark by the time we had finished our meager supper. With the disappearance of the light, my mood sagged. I had harbored a vague hope that Carlisle might reach the ranger station by mid-afternoon and send out a rescue party immediately. When nightfall came, I had to acknowledge that help would not arrive until the next day—or possibly longer.

I had kept up with my own medication regimen, taking ibuprofen every four hours. My knee remained extremely tender, and I knew the swelling had increased with my movements about the campsite. Still, those were unavoidable. The fire was important for both signal purposes—unlikely as a night search might be—and for Bella's comfort. About an hour after dinner, I needed to help her out of the tent so that she could relieve herself. For many young women, I imagined embarrassment might be the primary emotion in such a situation. For Bella, however, it was remorse and apology. She felt terrible about the discomfort my assistance caused for me.

Once I had gotten her settled in the tent again, I checked the fire once more. I thought there was enough wood to last most of the night. I made another cup of tea for Bella then joined her inside.

She was drowsy, so I set aside the cup and tucked the sleeping bag around her. "Sleep well," I said gently.

Bella's eyes closed as I murmured that everything would be fine. It felt like an empty promise that gnawed at me as I drifted into a fitful sleep.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

I heard crackling. The sound of Bella's rales seemed to reverberate through my mind as I fought to open my eyes. Her breathing was much worse. I needed to help her. I couldn't lose her… With a gasp, I sat up, blinking against the blackness surrounding me. My heart was pounding as I struggled for a few moments to wake fully.

It was very dark inside the tent. When I had gone to sleep, there had been a soft glow from the fire, just enough light seeping through the mesh window to provide slight illumination. Now I could see nothing, and I realized that the fire must have burned out. The night air was chilly, and a small shudder shook me. I felt more alert now, the remnants of my dream dissipating as I focused my senses.

Although I could still see nothing, I could hear Bella's breathing. It was a little raspy but not the labored respiration that my dreaming mind had imagined. I moved my hand so that I could touch her. She still lay upon her side, facing away from me. My fingers brushed over her shoulder then up to her face. I rested my palm gently against her cheek. Her skin felt warm and the hair at her temple was damp. She was definitely running a fever.

I checked my watch to find that it was just after 3:00 in the morning. Dawn was still several hours away. If Carlisle had reached the ranger station before nightfall, a rescue party would depart at first light. If not, surely he would find the station today, and help would arrive in the afternoon. I tried not to dwell upon other possibilities.

I could see Bella's face in the small glow from my watch. She was sleeping, but her expression appeared tight and pained. I saw her shiver slightly; her fever was causing chills. I needed to get the fire going again. I could warm myself by the flames and curl us beside her to provide some comfort.

I crawled out of the tent, keeping my watch lit. The fire had burned out almost completely. A few glowing embers remained, but I would have to add more wood. I hobbled to the pile Carlisle had left, surprised to find only a few small twigs. I looked up at the sky. The new moon was a tiny sliver that provided no real light. Squinting in the dimness, I could just make out a couple of pieces of wood scattered some distance away. An animal must have come through our campsite. A chill crept up my spine as I remembered the bear I had seen the previous morning. I stood very still for several long seconds, listening intently for any snuffling or shuffling, but I heard nothing.

Even so, starting the fire again took on a new urgency. I limped toward the nearest pieces of wood, picking up two and taking them back to the embers. I needed more kindling, however, to ignite the thick, bare branches. Gingerly I made my way toward the nearest clump of bushes, searching for some dry leaves. I broke off several large twigs then returned to the fire. I pushed the twigs into the embers, waiting until they caught fire. Flames licked at the branches but died quickly once the leaves had burned. Additional kindling would be required.

I stood and made my way back to the stand of bushes. I searched for more dry leaves but found none. The fire snapped behind me, and I glanced back, hoping to see a resurgence of flame. But there was only the meager glow from the embers. Suppressing a sigh, I grabbed the walking stick Carlisle had found for me and moved toward several small trees that I recalled growing near the wall of the ravine, perhaps twenty yards away. I had noticed that at least one was dead and felt certain I would find some usable tinder there.

I made my way to the trees, frustrated that my movements were so slow. Using the light from my watch, I selected several very dry branches and began breaking them off. The cracks were sharp in the still night, and I winced unconsciously at the noise. It reverberated against the rocky walls, and I had to remind myself that the snaps and rustles were just the echoes resulting from my actions. Even so, the sooner I had the fire blazing again, the better.

I was breaking off the last branch when I heard a small cry. I froze, listening intently in an attempt to identify the sound. There was a susurration, likes leaves in the wind, but the cool night was calm. My spine prickling, I turned around.

The muffled cry came again. My eyes were drawn to the campsite, to the weak glow emitted by the embers. I could just discern the outline of the tent, and beside it another shape… Bella was hunched next to the tent. She must have awakened, frightened to find that I was gone. But she shouldn't be outside in the cold.

"Bella!" I called. "I'm over here."

"Edward!" she seemed to gasp, and then I heard a sharp slap.

I began hobbling back toward the tent as I watched her stand up. For a moment I was confused; she was a petite woman, five feet four inches at best, yet she appeared as tall as I was, her head higher than the top of the tent.

"Edward!" she called again, her voice hoarse.

I heard a growl and a hard snapping sound, and suddenly I understood. Bella's body was not the one I could see outlined in the dull glow. Abruptly the light flared as a flame licked up one of the logs. The illumination was brief, but it was sufficient for me to see a man moving away from the tent, dragging Bella by the arm. She was fighting, writhing and pummeling him with her free hand, but she was ill, injured, and weak, and her blows appeared ineffectual.

"Bella!" I shouted. "Get away from her! Leave her the hell alone!"

"James, please, no—" Bella's plea was cut off by the bastard's hand slamming into her face.

I heard his cruel laugh clearly and began running without thinking of anything but getting Bella away from James. My knee gave out after a few seconds; abruptly I found myself sprawled on the ground. Fortunately I had managed to keep the walking stick gripped in my hand, and I heaved myself up, using the stick to steady my body.

"No…" Bella moaned. She continued to struggle, slowing her assailant's movements but not deterring him. He spat a curse and kicked her, the blow landing on her right flank.

The firelight flared again, and I saw his face clearly. His expression was one of both fierce possession and unbridled rage. I struggled forward, watching in horror as Bella went limp. He bent to lift her, seemingly intent on carrying her from the campsite. He must have figured out that I was injured and would not be able to pursue him effectively on foot. But damn it, I would try.

I was about ten yards away from him and Bella. He lifted her into his arms as he turned toward the stream. Pausing for a few precious seconds, I bent, fumbling on the ground for the nearest stone. I gripped the cool rock in my hand then stood, flinging it at James' back.

It struck him solidly between the shoulder blades. He stopped moving and spun to glare at me.

"She's mine," he snarled.

I took a few halting steps, waiting for his callous laugh as he watched my pained movements. Then, with a burst of speed, I stumbled ahead. He began to turn again, but Bella's knee shot up, hitting him in the chin.

He faltered. She raked her nails over his face, catching his left eye. With another expletive, he dropped her. She landed heavily on the hard ground.

"Bitch!" he grunted, kicking her in the flank again.

I willed my knee to hold my weight as I lunged forward, only a few yards from him now. My eyes swept over Bella; she lay unmoving. James was still cursing, drawing back his foot again. My only thought was to protect her. I felt nothing but raw fury at the monster as I took the last few steps toward him. I lifted my sturdy stick and swung it at his head. It struck him solidly on the temple, and he grunted, crumpling to the ground.

I slid to my knees, my hand reaching for Bella's wrist to feel for a pulse. It was thready, but she was alive. My own pulse was rushing through my ears, and it took me several seconds to realize that her breaths were coming in hard rasps. Her eyes were open, staring at me as her lips moved soundlessly.

Her fingers clutched at my sleeve for an instant before I felt the blow to my back. Suddenly James' arm was pressed over my neck, and I was gasping for air. I shoved my elbow back, hitting his ribcage. His hold slackened slightly; I twisted away. I saw him reach toward Bella, and I blocked him with my body. His fist shot out, catching my cheek and brow. Blood flowed, and I hastily wiped at my eye.

James' hand wrapped around Bella's arm as he kicked at me. I rolled to the side, my instinct to protect her surging. I grabbed his collar, pulling him back. His fists struck at me; I felt his knuckles collide with my shoulder, my ribs, and my neck. I kept my grip, however, and managed to give him a hard shove. He fell back, toward the fire. I heard a dull thud, and he gave a short grunt. I blinked, swiping at my eye again. When my vision cleared, I saw that he lay without moving. He appeared unconscious, and I realized that he must have hit his head on one of the rocks surrounding the fire pit. Yet I still needed to restrain him—to tie his hands and feet at the very least—

Bella's rapid, harsh gasps quickly drew my attention back to her. Her respiration was labored, and her expression was deeply pained.

"Bella," I uttered, crawling toward her.

"Hurts," she whispered hoarsely.

"Where?" What damage had James' brutal treatment caused?

"Hurts… to breathe," she clarified, coughing weakly.

Suppressing my sense of panic, I glanced back at James. He remained unmoving. I needed to listen to Bella's lungs, but my instinct to secure James felt more pressing. I worried that he would regain consciousness and pose a further threat to Bella.

"I need to keep you safe," I told her, my tone heavy with apology.

Carlisle had left one of the climbing ropes near the tent. I retrieved it, then as quickly as possible I bound James' hands behind his back and secured his ankles, connecting the two portions of rope. Less anxious about him now, I devoted my full attention to Bella.

I checked her pulse again. It was rapid, and her breathing remained ragged. She had blood on her face from a laceration on her lip, but I saw no signs of additional bleeding elsewhere. Quickly, yet as gently as possible, I ran my hands over her ribcage. She cried out weakly and flinched when I touched her upper right quadrant.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. I hated to leave her, even for a moment, but checking her breath sounds was exigent. "I'll be right back," I assured her, ducking into the tent. I grabbed the stethoscope and a lantern then returned to her.

I had just turned on the lantern when her eyes widened, looking past me.

"James," she choked out softly yet urgently.

As I turned to look at him, the light flared. He must have regained consciousness and begun struggling, pulling at the rope and writhing about in an attempt to free his hands. He had moved, and his arm had come into contact with the embers, which quickly ignited the fabric of his jacket. Flames covered his torso and licked down his legs. He gave a strangled cry, then sobbed out for help.

"Oh God," I muttered. I abhorred this vile creature who had hurt Bella, but it went against everything I had learned and everything in my moral composition to leave him to perish. Images of burn victims flashed through my mind. James would face an exceedingly painful future.

I looked back to Bella, my expression conveying my conflicted feelings. She gave me a miniscule nod; she could not willingly watch him die, either. In that moment, I saw the depth of her character, and my emotions swelled. I gave her hand a brief squeeze then pushed myself up.

I had taken only a few steps toward the fire when my knee gave out. I stumbled, catching my fall with my hands. My knee throbbed, and my entire leg felt useless. I could not stand, let alone walk. I dragged myself toward the fire, watching the flames engulf James entirely. The distance was only a few yards, but my movements were painstaking. By the time I reached him, I knew there was nothing I could do. He had stopped crying out, and his body lay motionless.

I blinked at the smoke, my eyes stinging with tears, then I turned back to Bella. I shook my head, letting her know that I had not reached him in time. I couldn't see her clearly, but she seemed very still.

"Bella?" I called.

She didn't respond. I hauled myself up, willing my body to stand, and hobbled back to her. The lantern light showed a blue tinge around her mouth. She was becoming cyanotic. Her eyes were partially closed as she labored to draw sufficient oxygen into her body.

As soon as I pressed the stethoscope over her lungs, I realized that my worst fears were confirmed. I heard no breath sounds on the right side. Her heart rate was significantly elevated, too. She had a closed tension pneumothorax.

"Ed…ward?" she questioned, her voice weak and fearful. "What… is it?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing desperately that when I opened them I would find that I was still dreaming. The sight of her pale, frightened face grounded me in reality. I took her small, cool hand in mine.

"Your lung has collapsed," I told her, struggling to keep the panic from my voice. "That's why it's so difficult to breathe."

"Help… me?" she whispered. Her fear was almost palpable.

"Yes," I promised. My mind was racing, reviewing procedures and desperately trying to recall every detail I had read and observed when studying treatment of a pneumothorax.

The immediate priority was to aspirate the air from the pleural space. She would require a needle thoracostomy. I had never done this procedure before. I had watched ER physicians, including Carlisle, perform it several times, but that was a poor substitute for actual experience.

Bella's skin was ashen, and the blue tinge around her lips had deepened. I needed to act immediately. Hoping desperately that our meager medical supplies contained what I needed, I crawled back into the tent. There was a second lantern inside, and I switched it on then began searching through the emergency pack. There was one remaining syringe; I recalled that Carlisle had used the other two to irrigate Bella's leg laceration. The syringe was an 18 gauge; I was fairly certain that anything over 14 would be sufficient. I grabbed a small container of povidone solution, gauze pads, and surgical tape.

My knee throbbed as I maneuvered my way back outside, but I pushed aside the pain. I realized that I could not stand, but it didn't matter. Right now I only needed to be at Bella's side.

I pressed my fingertips over her carotid artery. She was tachycardic, and I could see that her trachea had shifted. I needed to work quickly. I positioned the second lantern to provide as much light as possible. I began to remove the wrapper from the syringe, my hands shaking so much that I fumbled. I had only one needle, only one chance to do the procedure. While speed was critical, I could not be hasty. Trying to steady my fingers, I removed the flash chamber from the syringe.

Bella's eyes were half closed. I touched her cheek briefly, telling her, "I'm going to pull aside your shirt, and you'll feel something cold on your skin. Try to stay still…" I took a slow breath to strengthen my tremulous tone. "You're going to be okay, Bella."

I hoped it was not an empty promise. I wished desperately that Carlisle were here. His competent, confident hands would perform the procedure perfectly, without hesitation or anxiety. My hands still shook. I willed them to stop, focusing on one thing at a time.

I unbuttoned Bella's shirt, moving aside the fabric to expose the right side of her chest. Deep bruises were forming across her flank, and I was certain that at least one rib was fractured. I ran my fingers very gently over her ribcage to find the second intercostal space. After visually determining the mid-clavicular line, I cleaned the site with the povidone solution. I picked up the syringe, positioning it at a 90 degree angle to her chest, just over the third rib. I had to keep my grip perfectly steady. If the angle of insertion was off, I could hit a major blood vessel or even her heart.

I focused my thoughts, imagining Carlisle's voice as he talked me through each step of the procedure. Had I done everything correctly? Had I forgotten anything? My vision blurred in the smoky haze that drifted from the fire. I blinked, tears stinging my eyes. I waited until I could see clearly again. I checked the angle of the syringe once more then glanced up at Bella's face. Her mouth was open as she gasped for breath through blue lips.

"God help me," I murmured, depressing the plunger.

I leaned in, desperate to hear a rush of air exiting from the needle. This was the sign that the procedure had been successful. The fire was crackling loudly, snapping fiercely. Carlisle's voice, imagined so vividly, continued to echo through my mind. I tried to narrow my senses, to force the real and conjured sounds away.

There was no whoosh. I knew there was a possibility that the treatment wouldn't work. Even when performed correctly, some patients required a second thoracostomy. But I had only one needle, only one chance. I had failed Bella.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

A distant sound echoed in my ears: "Edward!"

Now I was hearing Carlisle's voice outside my mind. My head ached deeply, and I wondered dimly if I had suffered a concussion from James' blow to my face. It didn't matter. I didn't care what happened to me if I couldn't save Bella.

"Edward!"

Carlisle's voice was closer now. Lights winked in my peripheral vision, and I looked up blearily. Several bright spots of light cut through the darkness. I blinked again, and Carlisle's voice called my name once more. He was real; he had returned.

"Over here!" I cried. "Hurry!"

I grasped Bella's limp, cool hand in mine. "Please," I entreated, "please, Bella, hang on just a little longer."

To my utter astonishment, I felt her fingers curl around mine. I had to glance down to be certain I had not imagined it. I lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles.

"What the hell happened here?"

The new voice caught my attention. I looked up again to see Carlisle and two other men hastening toward us. One of the men was vaguely familiar, and as he drew nearer I saw his dark green jacket and remembered that he was the ranger we had met briefly. The other man was older, probably close to fifty, and he lagged slightly behind.

"Carlisle," I pleaded, "help Bella."

He sprinted the final few yards, dropping to his knees beside her.

"Closed tension pneumothorax," I explained succinctly. "I did a thorocostomy, but it didn't work. I only had one needle—"

Carlisle nodded, shrugging his pack from his shoulder. He reached for the stethoscope, quickly pressing it over Bella's chest.

"We need to try again," I said, then, my tone more frantic, I asked, "Did you bring more medical supplies? Do you have another syringe?"

Carlisle moved his hand to her neck, then he looked up at me. "We don't need it."

"No! You have to try again!" I began to reach for his pack. Surely he had more emergency equipment in there…

"Edward," Carlisle said, his tone firm, "stop." He placed his hand on my arm. "She's breathing now."

"She's—what? I didn't hear a rush of air—"

He smiled gently. "You did the procedure perfectly. There are breath sounds on both sides now."

"Oh God," I sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The ranger stood nearby, his eyes moving from us to the fire and back again. The other man reached us, panting heavily.

"Bella!" he gasped. He began to move toward her, but the ranger took his arm.

"Let the doc work," he cautioned.

I looked at the older man's face, recognizing the shape of his chin and the deep brown of his eyes. He had to be Bella's father.

"She'll be okay, Charlie," Carlisle said, glancing up briefly. He had pulled on gloves and was securing the syringe with surgical tape. "Edward did exactly what needed to be done."

Bella's father knelt by her head, gingerly touching her brow. Then he lifted his eyes to meet my gaze, his voice rough with emotion as he said, "Thank you, son."

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Then my attention returned to Carlisle. He had wrapped a cuff around Bella's arm and was checking her pressure.

"What can I do?" I asked him, desperate to continue helping in any way that I could.

Carlisle looked up at me. His expression was odd as he replied, "Just take it easy, Edward."

"I'm fine. I need to help—"

I felt a hand land on my shoulder. "The doc's got it under control," the ranger told me, squatting at my side.

"Thanks, Emmett," Carlisle murmured with a nod as he continued to assess and treat Bella.

"Can you tell me what happened here?" the ranger—Emmett—asked.

"James," I began hoarsely, my eyes flicking toward the firepit. "He brought her out here. He was planning—" I swallowed again and blinked back the stinging in my eyes.

"Yeah," Emmett replied softly, "we know that much. Bastard punctured the tires on the other teachers' cars so they wouldn't show up at the meeting point. That's how he got Bella out here alone with him. Once Chief Swan heard about that, he knew something was wrong. We've been trying to find Bella since yesterday morning. We were damn lucky Doc Cullen crossed our path last night. But getting back here and finding you two in the dark was rough. It was the light from the fire that showed us exactly where you were."

The irony of that was not lost on me. However, I was too drained, emotionally and physically, to do more than respond with "oh."

I had kept Bella's hand in mine. Suddenly I realized my hand was empty. I took a sharp breath, trying to clear the haziness from my mind. Everything felt muted; Emmett was still speaking, but his voice seemed distant. Anxiously I reached out for Bella's hand again, trying to see through the dim light.

Something firm closed around my shoulders. "It's okay. I've got you, buddy," Emmett's deep voice said.

He was holding me upright. I felt a cool touch at my wrist and blinked. I recognized Carlisle's hand as he pressed his fingers over my pulse point.

"I'm… all right," I stammered. "Take care of Bella."

Carlisle's face swam before me for a few moments, then my vision sharpened. "She's stable," he told me. "We'll get both of you out of here soon."

His fingers moved over my scalp and neck. I permitted his brief examination until he shone a penlight into my eyes. I wasn't the one who required his attention. I attempted to brush his hand away, but he persisted. The light shot a stab of pain through my skull, and my stomach churned uneasily.

"Carlisle, please," I said, my voice unsteady, "Bella needs you."

Our eyes met. In his gaze I saw both appraisal and empathy. He offered me a gentle smile, moving my hand to rest over Bella's wrist. I could feel her pulse. It wasn't as strong or steady as I would have liked, but it had improved considerably since I had last checked it. The soft, light flutter beneath my fingers comforted me enough for Carlisle to continue assessing me.

As he carefully secured a brace around my knee, he told me, "Emmett has called for help. We'll get you and Bella up to the main trail, and they'll meet us within the hour."

I nodded. "She's developed pneumonia," I informed him unnecessarily. "What's her current condition?" I trusted that he would be honest with me.

He had placed an oxygen mask over Bella's nose and mouth; a small portable canister lay beside her. She remained pale, but her color had improved marginally.

"Pulse and respiration are steady, BP's better," he reported. "I've given her Augmentin; it's all I have available at the moment, but it should help. We'll get her started on Clindamycin as soon we get to the hospital." He reached for the medical pack and rummaged about for a few moments. "What do you want for pain?" he asked, then quickly added, "You need something, Edward."

The concern I saw in his face stopped whatever protests I might have made. I didn't want to lose the shreds of focus I still possessed, but I understood that the next few hours would be challenging for me physically. I realized that I had been in shock since I ascertained that Bella's lung had collapsed; my body's reaction had numbed my pain. Now it was returning. My knee felt as though it were on fire, and the places James had struck me were extremely tender.

Caressing Bella's hand lightly with my fingers, I replied, "Whatever you think is best."

I didn't ask what he injected me with. Both my pain and my perception began to dull. I was helped up, my arm slung over Carlisle's shoulder. Emmett and Chief Swan carried Bella on a litter. The ranger's size and strength, and the chief's paternal love, ensured that both would have unfailing grips.

In retrospect, it would be difficult to say which was the more arduous process: Getting the litter up from the ravine or hauling me up the rock wall. But in the end we stood at the top, the litter readjusted between the two men, and my arm secured over Carlisle's shoulders again. We moved along, Carlisle supporting a great deal of my weight, for some time.

I kept my focus on Bella's still form as she lay in the litter. The pain meds Carlisle had administered kept her in a doze. I missed seeing her beautiful eyes, but I felt grateful that she would not experience any significant discomfort during our trek back to the mail trail.

We stopped several times so that Carlisle could check Bella's condition. I wasn't certain how long we walked, but finally we emerged from the trees onto a narrow trail. I heard voices ahead, and soon we saw the rescue crew.

The next stretch of time was something of a blur. Bella was placed in the back of the ranger's vehicle, while I was helped into the rear seat. Chief Swan was next to me, anxiously turned around, while Emmett sat in the front with the other two rangers. Carlisle hunched beside Bella, monitoring her as the Jeep negotiated the rough terrain.

An ambulance met us when we reached the road, and Bella and I were loaded into the back with Carlisle continuing to tend to her. Emmett told Bella's father that he would take him to the hospital. The paramedics fussed over me minimally. I rebuffed most of their attempts, insisting they focus on Bella.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was somewhat surprised to find a relatively small building. This was not a major trauma center.

"Where are we?" I asked.

One of the paramedics replied, "Forks Community Hospital."

Carlisle sensed my concern. "It's the closest hospital. I assisted with a search and rescue victim here. They have everything Bella needs."

"You'll stay with her?" I asked.

"Of course."

As Bella was taken inside, a nurse came out with a wheelchair for me. I paid little attention to her actions as she efficiently got me in the chair, but when she spoke to me, I looked up at her.

"My husband told me you might need a lift," she said.

She was an extremely striking woman, with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her tone was business-like, her demeanor professional, but I could see compassion in her eyes.

"Your husband?" I repeated, feeling as though I had missed something. My mind was still foggy.

"Emmett—Ranger McCarty," she explained with a smile that softened her features. "He called me to let me know what happened and that you and Chief Swan's daughter were being brought in."

"Oh."

"Let's get you inside and comfortable."

I nodded mechanically. "Thanks."

She wheeled me through the doors to the ER and toward an exam room. I wanted to be with Bella, to watch as she was treated so that I would know what was happening to her.

"I'm okay," I said. "I need to know how Bella is."

The nurse paused, moving around to stand in front of me. "She's in good hands. Dr. Gerandy knows what he's doing, and Dr. Cullen is one of the best trauma physicians I've ever seen. He worked on a search and rescue victim here about a year ago. They're taking good care of your friend."

I nodded. I understood this intellectually, but it was still difficult to remain separated from Bella.

The nurse placed her hand upon my arm. "It's tough, isn't it, when we know what should be happening but aren't in there to observe or help."

Her expression was gentle, and at my look of minor confusion she added, "Emmett told me you just graduated from med school."

"Yeah."

"You stayed with Miss Swan while Dr. Cullen went for help. That must have been frightening."

I swallowed. "Terrifying," I admitted. "When I realized she had a pneumothorax… I didn't know if I'd done the procedure correctly…"

She squeezed my arm softly. "I'll get a status update in a few minutes. Let me get you settled first, okay?"

"All right," I acquiesced.

She stood. "I'm Rosalie."

"Edward," I replied. "Masen," I added, knowing she'd need my surname name at some point for charting. My brain was less foggy now.

"Dr. Masen," she said with a nod and a half-smile.

She wheeled the chair into the exam room and helped me up onto the table, adjusting it to a comfortable angle and placing a pillow behind my back. She carefully slid another pillow under my injured knee to provide some elevation.

She wasn't particularly garrulous, which I appreciated. I hadn't been prone to small talk for many years, with the exception of the time I'd spent with Bella. With her, chatting about the most mundane things felt important and exciting.

Rosalie left to find out how Bella was doing. The wait for her return felt interminable. When she entered the room again, she told me that Bella was stable enough to be taken to X-Ray.

"You did well, Dr. Masen," she said, her expression and tone sincere.

I was taken for films next. Carlisle was still with Bella, but he had asked Rosalie to arrange for several x-rays of my knee. By the time she returned me to the exam room, my level of pain had increased significantly. I was still reluctant to dull my senses to any significant degree, but I accepted the dose of Tylenol #3 that she offered me. Rosalie seemed to understand my reticence, which I appreciated. She was a very good nurse.

The codeine started to work fairly quickly, and despite my desire to remain alert, I began to doze. I was in that odd, almost phantasmagorical state when Carlisle's voice roused me.

I sat upright quickly, gasping slightly at the little wave of pain this action brought. "Bella?" I asked immediately, blinking at my friend.

"Easy, Edward." He placed a steadying hand upon my shoulder. "She's doing well. Two ribs are fractured, but her lung function is improving. There aren't any other fractures. She's on IV Clindamycin and supplemental oxygen. Temp is 100.2, but I think we'll see that coming down soon. We've got her on fluids, as well, to help keep her comfortable."

"Did she need a chest tube?" I asked hoarsely.

He reached for a cup of water on the bedside cart and handed it to me. "No. The needle decompression was all that was required. That was good work, Edward."

I took a few sips of the water. Relief was slowly seeping through me. "Thank you for taking care of her," I finally said.

He gave me a curious look. Then a knowing smile flickered across his lips. "You're welcome. Now, tell me how you're feeling."

I shrugged. "Okay."

"How's your pain?"

"Not too bad. Did you get the knee films back?"

He nodded, gesturing toward the light board on the wall. "I'll send these to Eleazer to get his opinion, and I still want to get an MRI at some point, but you've definitely torn your ACL. Eleazer will want to see you when you get back to Seattle, so you can discuss treatment options. For now, though, you need some rest—and a couple of sutures." He gestured toward my right eyebrow.

I sat patiently while he numbed the area then irrigated the wound. I knew his suture technique was unparalleled, so I was glad he was the one to work on me. When he'd finished, he checked my eyes again and tested my reflexes. I knew he was concerned I'd sustained a concussion, but I felt certain now that I hadn't. He agreed with me once he'd completed his evaluation.

He also insisted that I remove my shirt so he could see what had caused me to wince when I sat up. I told him briefly about my struggles with James, and his brow furrowed when he saw my chest. I looked down to find ugly bruises forming over my ribcage and shoulder.

Carlisle's hands were infinitely gentle as he felt over my ribs and clavicle. I appreciated the care with which he examined me.

"I don't feel any fractures," he reported. "Any pain with breathing?"

"Not really."

He arched an eyebrow and reached for a stethoscope. Once he'd listened to my lungs, he seemed less dubious about my assessment.

He sank down on the stool beside me, running a hand through his hair. Now that the crisis had passed, I could see how exhausted he looked. He had been hiking throughout the previous day and the entire night as he searched for the ranger station then guided Emmett and Chief Swan back to our campsite.

"You should rest," I told him. "You been up for over 24 hours."

"I could offer you the same advice," he replied with a wry smile.

"I slept for a few hours last night; you didn't."

He gave a nod of acquiescence. "Rose will get you settled in a room shortly. I'll check on Bella again then catch a nap in the lounge."

"Let me know how she is?"

"Of course."

Less than thirty minutes later I was resting in a private room, my heart and mind easier after the update Carlisle had brought me. Bella remained stable and appeared comfortable, and Dr. Gerandy and Rosalie were keeping a close eye on her. I had yet to meet Dr. Gerandy, but I knew that Bella was in excellent hands with the nurse.

I slept and dreamt of Bella.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

The touch of fingers at my wrist roused me. My sleep had been deep for a short time then fitful as thoughts of Bella ran through my mind. I opened my eyes to find Rosalie at my bedside.

"Sorry, Dr. Masen. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's all right," I replied, my voice slightly husky. "It's Edward, please."

She gave a quick nod as she passed a cup of water to me. She anticipated my next comment, and before I could ask, she said, "Miss Swan is responding well to the Clindamycin. Fever's down, her lung function is improving, and she seems comfortable."

"Has she been conscious?"

With a smile, she answered, "On and off. She's asked about you several times."

"How long was I asleep?"

"About seven hours. How are you feeling?"

I was sore all over, and my knee was extremely tender. The pain meds had worn off some time ago. "Okay," I finally responded. "A little achy, but not too bad."

"Do you want another dose of Tylenol 3?"

I hoped to see Bella soon, so some pain relief would be helpful. I nodded, and she produced the pills from a small cup on the bedside table. She helped me to the bathroom, where took a few extra moments to wash my face. That simple act left me feeling much more human.

As I emerged from the bathroom, I asked Rosalie when I could visit Bella. She told me that Carlisle planned to come to my room after he checked on Bella, and that we would see what he had to say. I had a distinct feeling that my condition was as much of an issue as Bella's, which seemed rather ridiculous to me.

Carlisle poked his head into the room a few minutes later. When he saw that I was awake and alert, he entered. I was surprised to see Esme come in behind him. Immediately she offered me a warm smile, then her expression changed to one reflecting concern. She moved to the bed to take my hand.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm all right," I replied. "When did you get here?"

"Carlisle called me as soon as you reached the hospital. He was concerned I'd hear about a rescue in the Park and worry—which I most certainly would have—so he told me what happened. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that, and that you were hurt." Tears glimmered in her eyes.

"Thank you," I said, touched by her compassion.

Carlisle was glancing at my chart. "How's your pain?" he asked.

"The Tylenol 3's doing its job," I replied. "How's Bella?"

"Better," he said. He repeated the information Rosalie had given me, adding a few additional details that he knew would assuage my worries further.

"When can I see her?"

"She's sleeping now," he responded.

"I won't disturb her. I just want to see her."

He and Rosalie exchanged a glance, then they helped me into a wheelchair. I planned to switch to crutches as soon as possible, but for the moment I was glad for the faster transportation the chair could provide.

As it turned out, I didn't have far to go. Bella's room was just across the hall, only two doors down from mine.

"Shouldn't she be in the ICU?" I asked. My heart rate increased as concern coursed through me.

"This is a small community hospital, Edward," he said. "But we're monitoring her closely. Rose's shift ended three hours ago, but she's still keeping an eye on Bella."

Carlisle pushed open the door and guided me inside. My gaze immediately sought the pale, delicate woman lying in the bed. A nasal cannula delivered supplemental oxygen to her, and a drip continued to push the antibiotics into her system. Her eyes were closed, and her expression appeared peaceful. I was glad that she was resting comfortably.

Carlisle pushed the wheelchair to the bed, and I gave him a grateful nod. Keeping my touch feather light, I rested my hand over Bella's. Her skin was warm and soft, and I felt much of the tension leave my body. The physical contact with her was soothing.

Carlisle took a few long moments to check the monitors and look over her chart again, but I suspected it was just pretext to give me a bit of time with her. I brushed my fingertips over her cheek gently, noting the slight flush of fever across her brow.

"Edward?" she whispered, so softly that I nearly missed it.

"Bella?" I stroked her cheek again.

Her eyes opened, and I was struck by the richness and depth of their color. Her lashes were long and dark. Her eyes were truly beautiful.

Her lips twitched up in a small smile. "Thank you," she murmured sleepily.

"Rest, my sweet girl."

"Stay?" Her request was a mere breath, but I heard it clearly.

"Yes. And I'll be here next time you wake."

She drifted off to sleep again. When I looked up, I realized that Carlisle had left the room. I sat at Bella's side for some time. When Carlisle returned, Rose was with him, and so was Chief Swan. I knew that the man needed time with his daughter, so I offered no protest when Rose told me she would take me back to my room. Leaving Bella pained me, but I knew she would be nearby and in very capable and caring hands.

Once we were in the hallway, Rose said, "You have some visitors. Are you up for that?"

My brow furrowed. "Really?" Aside from Esme, I couldn't imagine who would want to see me. "Sure, I guess so."

Instead of returning to my room, she wheeled me to a small lounge at the end of the hallway. I recognized Ranger McCarty's bulk immediately. His face lit up the moment he saw his wife, his blue eyes bright with affection. Then he smiled down at me and extended his huge hand.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

"I'm okay," I replied.

He stepped aside, sliding an arm around Rosalie's waist. Esme smiled at me from the chair where she sat, and the lanky figure of my classmate, Jasper Whitlock, rose from the seat beside her.

I blinked in surprise, asking, "Jasper? What are you doing here?"

He came forward to clasp my hand. "Mrs. Cullen called me and told me what happened. I figured you might like to see a familiar face or two."

My gaze moved to Esme questioningly. She smiled gently and said, "I didn't know how long you'd be here and thought it would be nice for you to have a friend nearby."

For a moment, my throat felt tight. Esme's thoughtfulness touched me deeply, and Jasper's generosity in driving from Seattle to see me was as unexpected as it was kind. We had been on affable terms, but I had never considered him a friend. Perhaps I should have.

He extended his hand toward the chairs. "You remember Alice, my fiancée?" he asked as a very petite, dark-haired woman jumped to her feet.

She hurried forward, taking my hands in hers. "Oh Edward, what you went through—I can't even imagine—but you saved her! I can't wait to meet Bella. From what Dr. Cullen's told us, she sounds like an amazing person."

I had met Alice several times when she had joined a few of the med students for lunch or dinner breaks. I recalled that she was quite ebullient, but today she struck me as nothing short of a whirlwind. She seemed to buzz with energy and enthusiasm—an interesting contrast to Jasper's steady, calm demeanor. Yet somehow they seemed to balance each other perfectly.

"Are you okay? What do you need? We brought you a change of clothes, and we can get you something to eat from the diner down the road. We stopped there, and the food's really good," Alice continued.

"Um, thanks," I responded, needing a moment to process everything. I felt a little overwhelmed by the attention I was receiving.

"Great!" Alice chirped. "What do you like?"

"Anything's fine," I said.

Rose and Esme left with Alice, promising they'd return shortly with food for everyone. Emmett left to speak with Chief Swan while Jasper settled down into a chair.

Jasper shook his head apologetically. "Sorry. Alice can be very enthusiastic at times, but she's got a really good heart and just wants to help."

"I know," I acknowledged. "I appreciate it."

"So," Jasper continued, his expression becoming more serious, "how are you doing, really?"

A few days ago I would never have considered answering him honestly. My response would have been an automatic, perfunctory phrase that revealed nothing of my feelings. Perhaps my lingering exhaustion and anxiety were affecting me, or perhaps my emotions were closer to the surface now. Jasper's gentle prompts and easy empathy encouraged me, as well. At first I simply related the events that had occurred, but soon I found myself describing my fear for Bella's safety, my frustration with my injury, and my outrage at James for his odious intent and heinous actions.

My breathing grew heavier and my skin clammier as I continued to speak. After awhile Jasper leaned forward to press his fingers over my wrist. Concern clouded his expression.

"I'm okay," I assured him then added, "Well, I'm not really okay, but talking about it is helping. I know I'll have to go over it all again in some official capacity. I guess it's good to get it all out now. Maybe it won't be as hard next time."

His voice was quite yet sincere when Jasper said, "James deserved everything he got."

"He would have killed her." My own voice was raspy.

Jasper nodded in agreement. "You kept Bella safe. That's the important thing to remember."

"But he hurt her," I uttered. "I couldn't prevent him from doing that."

Jasper rested his hand over mine. "You kept James from hurting her any further, and you saved her life with that needle decompression. My God, Edward, I couldn't have done that—"

"If it had been Alice, you would have," I said.

He shook his head. "Maybe…I don't know. But you did what needed to be done. You were able to use your knowledge and skill in a horrible situation, and you saved her."

"I was so afraid that I'd done it wrong, that I was going to lose her," I admitted.

A slow grin began to spread over Jasper's face. "She's not just a patient to you, is she?"

The man's perspicacity continued to impress me, as well as encourage me to reflect on my own feelings honestly. "No, I suppose she's not. I know the time we spent together was due to terrible circumstances, but even in that desperate situation, her warmth, concern, and intelligence shone through."

"You really care about her."

"It's probably ridiculous; I've only known her for a couple of days—"

Jasper chuckled lightly. "Do you know how long it took for me to fall in love with Alice?"

I shook my head.

"One hour. I realize that sounds impossible, but the moment I met her I felt an instant attraction—and it wasn't just physical. We connect emotionally and intellectually on this level I can't even describe. Alice says we were destined for each other." He shrugged. "I don't know if I believe in predetermination, but when I met her I just knew we'd be together for the rest of our lives. Sounds really corny, but it's true."

"You're lucky to have found each other."

"We are. And maybe Bella's just as lucky that you found her."

"Don't mean to interrupt," Emmett said from the doorway, "but the girls are back with the food. You hungry?" he asked me.

Surprisingly, I was. "Yes," I replied.

He grinned. "Good to hear."

The next hour was filled with hearty food and amiable conversation. Carlisle joined us, bringing encouraging news about Bella, which increased my appetite even more. Fortified both physically and emotionally, I managed to speak with two State Police officers, relating the events once more.

Emmett remained with me while I explained what had happened and what Bella had told me about James's actions. When I had finished and had answered the officers' questions, they assured me that I would not be prosecuted for James's death. Chief Swan had begun an investigation into the bastard's past as soon as he'd realized that Bella was alone in the Park with him. Deputies had found that James had provided false information to the school; a more thorough background check revealed that he had been tried but somehow acquitted for battery and sexual assault. This information left me chilled and shaken.

By the time the interview was finished, a deep fatigue had seeped through me. Emmett slipped out to find Rosalie, and the moment she saw me she told the officers that I needed to return to my room immediately. However, as she wheeled me down the hall, she paused outside of Bella's room and asked if I'd like to wish her good night.

Grateful for the kind gesture, I thanked Rosalie. I held Bella's hand in mine for several minutes. She was sleeping, but her color was a little better, her fever was down several tenths of a degree, and her respiration had improved. I fell asleep quickly, my palm still warm from Bella's small hand.

* * *

I remained hospitalized for several more days. Aside from my knee, I wasn't seriously injured, and even the torn ACL didn't require hospitalization. However, Carlisle recommended that I remain at Forks Community until he could arrange for an MRI of my knee. I had no objections to this plan; it allowed me to spend increasing amounts of time with Bella each day.

She was recovering slowly but steadily. She was awake for slightly longer stretches of time every day, and I had begun to read to her. She seemed to enjoy this, and I was happy to do it. As she grew stronger, we talked more, too. But even when I simply sat quietly at her side, her hand clasped gently in mine, she appeared content. I knew I was.

Carlisle and Esme had found a small B & B that she described as "charming." They spent nights there, but both were at the hospital during the day. Jasper and Alice were also staying at the B & B; they both said they loved the area and were enjoying time away from the city. I was grateful for their presence. Jasper's calm demeanor and empathetic manner were welcome when I felt the need to talk. Alice's verve provided entertainment and diversion. Esme's gentle, nurturing personality gave me support I had never realized I needed, and Carlisle's compassion and professionalism brought me comfort and reassurance. Rosalie was a constant presence, never hovering but always available if Bella or I required anything. And Emmett stopped by each day, bringing geniality and humor to every visit.

Bella's father spent a great deal of time with her, too. He and I were becoming acquainted, but he was a quiet man, and idle chat wasn't in his nature. Still, we had a comfortable cordiality, and more than once he told me how grateful he was for all I had done for his daughter.

Carlisle had arranged for me to have an MRI at the hospital in Port Angeles. It was the nearest facility with imaging equipment. He drove me to the hospital, where I met with an orthopedic surgeon after I'd had the MRI. The news was somewhat better than I had hoped. My ACL was torn, but there were no other injuries. The orthopedist didn't recommend surgery, and Carlisle was inclined to agree with him, as was I. However, Carlisle still wanted his colleague in Seattle to provide an opinion. I would still require physical therapy, but I was certainly agreeable to that.

As we drove back to Forks, Carlisle said, "I think you can be released today."

I was more than ready physically, but it was difficult to leave Bella.

With a quick glance at me, he added, "I'm not sure you're ready for the drive back to Seattle just yet, though. I'd like you to remain in Forks for awhile longer. Esme arranged for a room at the B & B for you, and we can get you started on your therapy at the hospital here. They have a pretty good PT."

"That sounds good," I agreed. "How much longer are you staying?"

"Esme's really enjoying the B & B; she hasn't had a vacation in a long time. And she loves the historic buildings here. We plan to stay for another week."

I knew she had been involved in a major work project; indeed, I'd been surprised that she had remained in Forks for more than a day. "Doesn't she need to get back to Seattle for that big hotel project?"

"Actually, no." He paused, looking over at me again. His expression was difficult to read.

"What's going on, Carlisle?"

"Her boss wasn't very pleased when she told him she needed to come to Forks. She explained that it was a family emergency, but he was less than supportive—"

"I'm sorry."

"It was something of a wake-up call for her," he continued. "The week she'd spent working on the project was one of the worst of her life. She didn't enjoy it at all and felt it affected her creativity. And she was uncomfortable taking the lead—not that she doesn't have the skill for it. Her boss expected her to delegate, but she's always been a very collaborative person. When he suggested that her trip here was unnecessary, she realized that she was with the wrong firm."

"Has she resigned?"

"She sent the letter yesterday."

"I had no idea… She's seemed happy whenever I've seen her."

"That's the thing, Edward: She is. She grew up on a farm, and while she's grown to enjoy the city, she loves the open space and small town friendliness that a place like this provides. She's happier and less stressed than I've seen her in a long time."

"I'm glad. Is she planning to look for a job at another firm?"

"I'm not sure… She's intrigued by the historical architecture here and thinks she might like to try her hand at renovating older structures."

"I bet she'd be good at that."

"I think so, too. I'm encouraging her to take all the time she needs to figure out just what she wants to do."

"Let me know if I can help," I offered. "If she wants to start her own firm, I could be a silent partner. My parents' estate left me pretty comfortable."

Carlisle smiled. "That's very generous of you, but Esme and I are fairly well set financially, too. My grandfather was a wealthy man, and he set up a trust fund for me."

"Oh… I didn't know."

He chuckled. "Well, neither Esme nor I have extravagant tastes—although I am considering a Mercedes for my next car. Those lines, and that engine…"

"I think you should go for it." I grinned conspiratorially. "I've had my eye on a Vanquish for awhile."

"An Aston Martin?" He whistled. "Your parents did leave you well off."

"Hey, every guy has his dream car. I may hold off on that, though. Now I'm thinking about an Audi or maybe a Volvo."

He arched an eyebrow at me. "A Volvo?" he asked.

"They're safe and comfortable, and there are a couple of fairly sporty models. I hope to be doing a lot of driving in the coming months."

"That's a nice passenger car," he said, emphasizing the word _passenger_.

"It is," I agreed.

But I wondered: After Bella recovered, would she want to spend time with me? Perhaps our connection had been one of circumstance. She had been injured, traumatized, and frightened. I had offered her some measure of comfort and safety, and I acknowledged that her fondness for me might be little more than gratitude. I knew how I felt, but I could not presume that her sentiments were the same.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	12. Chapter 12

The B & B was comfortable and homey, and the plush bed in my room was certainly preferable to a hospital bed. Yet I felt somewhat ill at ease. I missed having Bella across the hall. She would remain hospitalized for the rest of the week, and I planned to visit her as often I could. If nothing else, I felt I helped her keep her mind occupied when I read to her or when we chatted about books, philosophy, music, and the many other topics that arose naturally when we were together.

I had been out of the hospital for three days when the weather turned sunny and warm. After my PT session, I went to Bella's room. She was sitting up in bed, looking much better. Her cheeks had a hint of rosiness, and her hair was smooth and glossy. She greeted me with a smile. As usual, I made my way to her bedside-I was becoming more adept with crutches-and reached for her hand.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked.

"Pretty good," she replied. "Rose said my temperature is normal."

"That's great," I said. "How's your breathing?"

"A little better. I know the ribs are going to take time to heal, and I have to be careful when I move, but I asked Rose to give me a little lower dose of pain meds this morning, and so far, so good."

"I'm really glad to hear it."

Her gaze moved to the window. "The sun is out."

"It's a gorgeous day," I agreed.

"I wish I could go outside. I feel so cooped up in here."

Rose poked her head through the doorway. "Everything okay?" she asked.

I gave Bella's hand a gentle squeeze then addressed Rose. "Is there any chance Bella could get a little fresh air?"

Rose smiled. "You feel up to it?" she asked Bella.

Bella nodded, offering me a smile of thanks for making the request.

"Let me just double-check with Carlisle," Rose replied, "and then we'll see what we can do."

She stepped out of the room. Bella's smile remained. She was even more beautiful when she was happy. She asked how I was doing, and I told her about my therapy session. Rose returned shortly with a wheelchair and a thumbs-up from Carlisle.

The process of getting Bella into the chair was somewhat painful, but she didn't complain. Indeed, her expression shone with delight when Rose wheeled her onto a sun-drenched patio while I followed closely behind. I settled on the bench, automatically reaching for Bella's hand again. Rose left us to enjoy the pleasant weather for a little while.

Bella lifted her face to the sunlight, sighing. "Oh, this feels so nice."

I ran my thumb over the soft skin at her wrist. "Yes, it does."

"Thank you, Edward. You always seem to know just what I need."

We sat quietly for several minutes, simply soaking up the sunshine and breathing in the fresh, clean air. Not for the first time, I marveled at how comfortable I felt with her. The silence felt natural to me, as much so as our conversations. Still, I had a lingering sense of worry. How long would our easy relationship last?

"Bella," I finally said, my voice soft and hesitant.

"Yes?"

I swallowed against the tightness forming in my throat. "I'll have to return to Seattle soon."

Her eyebrows drew together, her expression becoming sober. She nodded slowly. "I know."

"The way we met—the situation you were in—it was terrible, and I'm so sorry you went through that. But the time I've spent with you… it's been…"

She took a quick breath, wincing. "I understand, Edward. I appreciate everything you've done for me. My God, you saved my life. I don't even have the words to express my gratitude. But please know that I'll always be grateful to you. I can never reciprocate, I know, but if there's ever anything I can do for you, any way I can help you, I hope you'll contact me—"

She was preparing to say good-bye. Once I left Forks, this would be over. "I…" I swallowed thickly, my chest heavy. "Of course."

Bella blinked, and I realized that her eyes had filled with tears.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" I asked. Was she in pain? "Do you need me to get Rose?"

She shook her heard. "No… it's…" Her breath hitched, and she winced again.

I cupped her cheeks in my hands. "Bella?" I prompted gently.

"I know it's ridiculous and unrealistic, and you don't even feel the same way, but I wish…" She blinked back the tears.

"What, love? What do you wish?" I didn't even realize I'd used the term of endearment; it just slipped unbidden from my tongue.

She pressed her lips together, lifting a hand to rest it over mine. Her voice was only a whisper as she said, "I wish you didn't have to go."

I swept my thumb over the tears glistening on her cheek as my own eyes began to prickle. "I wish that, too," I said.

"Really?"

"Yes."

I leaned forward, hesitating just a moment to be sure she wouldn't pull away. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and shining, her expression open and affectionate. I kissed her, my lips softly brushing hers. I felt her hand on my head, her fingers sliding through my hair, and I deepened the kiss. For a few glorious seconds, her lips parted, and my tongue swept gently against hers. She gave a little gasp, her fingers tightening against my scalp.

Her mouth was warm and soft, and my entire body felt as though it were aglow. My hand had found its way into her hair, too, my fingers stroking the silky strands. After a moment I pulled back slightly, knowing she needed to breathe, now more than ever. She was still recovering, and I wouldn't risk hurting her in any way.

I rested my forehead against hers, waiting until she had caught her breath. Then I kissed over the dampness left by her tears. She shuddered slightly. I pulled back to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, but I saw a shiver run through her.

"Are you cold?" I asked with concern.

"No, not at all," she replied. Her blush deepened.

I smiled in understanding. Taking her hands again, I said, "I'll stay in Forks until my residency begins. That's not for three more weeks."

"And then?"

With a little grin, I responded, "Well, I've been thinking about getting a new car, something good for long drives. I'll be coming back and forth from Seattle on weekends… that is, if that's what you want."

"Yes," she said, "it is. Very much."

"Me too."

When Rose returned, she found us in the same position she had left us. However, our hands were clasped, fingers interlaced. She took one look at us and smiled.

"It looks like the sunshine agreed with you," she commented, but her expression showed that she knew it was more than that.

Bella and I knew, too.

* * *

_To be concluded..._


	13. Chapter 13

Cold and darkness pressed in all around me. I could hear the rain drumming against the roof of the tent and the howl of the wind. I moved closer to Bella, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. I needed to be careful; she was badly hurt, and she was developing pneumonia. Carlisle had gone to get help, leaving me to care for her. Bella moaned softly. My heartbeat increased, anxiety beginning to build.

"What do you need?" I murmured, hoping it was something I could provide.

"Only you, Edward," she replied softly.

Her warm hand touched my cheek, and I opened my eyes. The bedroom was dim in the gray dawn light, and the air felt chilly. I glanced at the window to see that rain had begun to fall. I reached for the down comforter then pulled Bella up onto my chest, kissing her forehead as the last remnants of my dream dissipated. It had been several weeks since I'd had the dream; its frequency had faded in the eight months since that propitious backpacking trip. I wondered vaguely what had caused my subconscious mind to conjure it up again. Perhaps I was anxious about the events that would occur today, happy as they were.

As Bella nuzzled her head beneath my chin, silky strands of hair tickling my chest lightly, a sense of calm settled over me. I sighed in contentment.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

I glanced at the bedside clock. "Just after seven."

"Mmm… so we only have a few minutes."

I nodded, running my hand down her back and resting it on her luscious little bottom. She wore a blue silk camisole with matching tiny shorts—a gift from Alice, who deserved my profuse thanks. Bella was utterly delectable in the sapphire ensemble. I kissed her gently, suppressing a groan as she wriggled against me.

"If you don't stop that, we're going to be late," I cautioned her.

She returned my kiss. "I don't think I care."

I began to slide my hand up under her little shirt, marveling at the softness of her skin. When I reached her ribcage, I paused, my fingers running lightly over the bones. She had healed fully and held no lingering signs of her injury. For that I felt eternally grateful.

However, when my phone rang a moment later, I felt momentarily cursed. I reached for the device, knowing I needed to answer. Bella gave a tiny huff of frustration even as a smile tugged at her lips.

Without glancing at the screen, I said, "Hello Alice."

Without preamble, Alice replied, "I know what you two are up to. Don't even think about it. You'll have plenty of time for that tonight. You both need to be showered and ready to go in half an hour."

"We know the schedule," I reassured her.

"Uh huh." She sounded slightly skeptical, but I could hear the delight in her voice as she said, "No funny business in the shower, either. You've got a wedding to get to."

Echoing Jasper, I replied, "Yes, ma'am."

Bella took the phone from me. Her voice was calm as she said, "Don't worry, Alice. Everything is going to go fine. It will be a perfect day."

I could hear Alice's musical voice as she agreed, "I know it will. See you soon."

Bella smiled at me as she set the phone down. I knew her mind was now filled with thoughts about the wedding.

I reached for her hand, lifting it to kiss the diamond that glittered on her finger. "Why don't you hop in the shower, and I'll get the coffee going. We should just have time for a cup before the limo gets here."

She nodded, and, after another quick kiss hurried off to the bathroom.

I got out of bed, taking a moment to stretch my leg carefully. I knew I would continue to have discomfort in my knee for some time. It was healing well, and I tried to be patient, but I missed the days when I never gave a second thought to my balance or mobility.

The first few months of my residency had been particularly challenging. While the Dean and staff had tried to accommodate my recovery, I had found it physically impossible to complete all of the tasks required of an ER physician while my knee remained unstable. I had been offered a deferred start to the program, but in the end I decided to switch my focus to family medicine.

Several factors had contributed to this decision. I spent many hours discussing it with both Carlisle and Jasper, both of whom I considered close friends now. Jasper helped me to realize that I did not thrive on the pressure and immediacy of many ER situations. While Carlisle assured me that I possessed the skill to work as a trauma physician, he discouraged me from pursuing the specialty if I had any reservations. The memory of Bella struggling for breath continued to haunt me, and my nightmares increased when similar cases were brought into the ER. I realized that I found joy in medicine when I could help younger patients and their parents. Often these cases were more minor—flu, strep, sprains, fractures, lacerations—but I found great satisfaction in resolving them.

A shortage of family medicine practitioners made it easy for me to change specialties, and my experience in the ER gave me very desirable skills. Two advantages in pursuing this specialty were a shorter residency program and the potential to work in the setting I now realized I desired. I planned to return to Forks when I was fully certified and begin a family practice there.

The main impetus for this move was Bella, of course. She was currently pursuing her dream of earning a Master's Degree in special education, with a concentration in learning disabilities. She had begun classes at the University of Washington in the fall, moving to Seattle for the duration of her program. Naturally I was delighted by this turn of events. It meant that we could spend our limited free time together without wasting precious hours driving back and forth from Forks. However, Bella missed her father and wanted to settle in Forks again once she graduated. There was a distinct dearth of qualified special education teachers in the more rural areas, so she would be a welcome addition to the local school district.

The other draw to Bella's hometown was a more sociable one. She and I had developed a wonderful friendship with Emmett and Rosalie, who were elated that we would eventually live in their beloved community. But they would not be our only friends: Esme's infatuation with the small town and its historic architecture had spurred a major change for her and Carlisle. He had committed to two more years at the hospital in Seattle, but they had already found a home in Forks, where they spent time whenever they could. Both were drawn to the small town, and Carlisle knew that his professional skills would be an asset to the community.

As I made my way to the kitchen, I smiled at the thought of creating a life with Bella in Forks. I loved imagining our future together. I chuckled as I pulled the coffee from the fridge. One step at a time, I reminded myself. We still had a wedding to get through.

* * *

I felt surprisingly calm as I sat on the small sofa in the church dressing room. I had donned my tux but had yet to tackle the tie. Jasper finished straightening Emmett's tie then motioned for me to stand.

I grinned at him then turned to the mirror. Alice had shown each of us—several times—how to tie the bit of fabric. Emmett had fumbled with his, but I found the task quite easy. After all, it wasn't as complicated as tying surgical knots. With a few deft motions, my tie was done. I turned back to Jasper for approval.

He gave a satisfied nod then touched his own tie again.

"It's perfect," I assured him.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Alice will approve," I replied.

Jasper reached for my hand, grasping it tightly. "Thanks."

Emmett gave him a hearty handshake, too. He was grinning broadly. "So, are you ready?"

Jasper nodded. "Yes, I really am. I've been waiting for this for five years."

"Marrying Rose is the best thing I ever did," Emmett said. "You and Alice are great together, and I know you've gonna love being married."

Jasper smiled then nudged me. "You're next."

"I am," I agreed happily.

There was a knock at the door. "See you up there," Emmett said to Jasper and he and I left to complete our usher duties.

It was with pure pleasure that I escorted Esme up the aisle and to her seat on the groom's side. Carlisle followed closely behind, his happiness barely contained. Today was a joyous occasion for all, perhaps even more so considering the circumstances that had initially brought us closer.

Soon I stood with Emmett on the right side of the alter. The guests were seated, and the music changed to the traditional processional. My eyes were drawn to the double doors as they opened to admit the bridesmaids. Bella looked stunning in the simple yet elegant burgundy sheath. Her hair was loose, curling over her shoulders, and her expression exuded happiness. As she walked up the aisle, moving slowly yet gracefully, our eyes met. A smile spread over her face, matched by mine.

She was absolutely glorious. I knew Alice would be a gorgeous bride, but nothing could be more beautiful than my Bella. I couldn't wait until she became my wife. As she passed Carlisle and Esme, he smiled warmly at her, and Esme, beaming, wiped at her eyes. She was extremely fond of Bella, and she considered me a part of the family now.

It was all I could do the restrain myself from darting forward to wrap my arms around Bella when she reached the alter. Our gazes locked again for a few precious seconds, and I whispered, "I love you."

I saw her lips move and knew exactly what she said.

I stood at Jasper's side throughout the ceremony. I could almost feel the bliss radiating from him. Alice was nearly bursting with both exhilaration and adoration. When they joined hands, though, and looked into each other's eyes, I had to look away. It felt wrong to intrude on the intensity of their connection.

The minister pronounced them man and wife, and, arms entwined and hands locked, they sauntered down the aisle, grinning from ear to ear. When they reached the doors, I turned to look at Bella again. I stepped forward, offering her my arm, which she took with a warm smile. As we walked down the long aisle, our pace was slower than the bride and groom's, but our love was every bit as strong.

* * *

Six months later, Bella and I stood beneath a canopy of fragrant wisteria, hands joined as we spoke our vows. Carlisle was at my side, and Rosalie was next to Bella. Chief Swan, Bella's mother and her husband, Esme, Emmett, Jasper, and Alice sat behind us. The Olympic National Forest surrounded us, the majestic pines reaching toward the infinite, blue summer sky.

I glanced back at our seated friends for a moment, catching a glimpse of the white house some distance away. Bella and I had gratefully accepted Carlisle's and Esme's offer to be married at their Forks home. We wanted a very small, private ceremony. While the splendor of Alice's and Jasper's wedding had been a festive culmination of their romance, my fiancée and I preferred to exchange our vows and celebrate our union in a truly special place with those we held most dear.

Bella's eyes were bright with joyful tears as I spoke the words I had prepared:

"Thoreau wrote, 'We need the tonic of wildness… we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed, and unfathomed by us.' Until I met you, the nature of life was mysterious and my emotions, my true character, were unsurveyed and unfathomed. But you unraveled the mystery, charted my feelings, and understood my very being. You are _my_ tonic, Bella, as beautiful and revered as this." I swept my hand toward the forest that stretched out beyond us. "I will love and cherish you forever."

She didn't wait for the minister to sanction our kiss. Bella wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me to her. The kiss was full of passion, ardor, adulation, and most importantly, promise.

When we finally pulled apart, I looked toward the forest once more. Memories flooded my mind. Bella's small hand slid into mine, her warm fingers squeezing gently, lovingly. I glanced down at her and smiled. We turned to face our friends, eager to embrace our new life as husband and wife.

* * *

_The End_

_Thank you, everyone, for your enthusiasm for this story and for your wonderful reviews. I'm going to be traveling for the next few days so probably won't get a chance to respond reviews for a little while, but please know how much I appreciate every single one. It's all of you who inspire me to keep writing!  
_


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